A Walk on the Wild Side
by JoiForber
Summary: Captain Peacock and Mr. Humphries both wear black onyx gold pinkie rings. Is this a coincidence of similar tastes in jewelry or is it a hint at something else? SLASH ALERT! SLASH ALERT!
1. The Invitation

**A Walk on the Wild Side****  
**

**The Invitation**

_Captain Peacock and Mr. Humphries both wear black onyx gold pinkie rings. Is this a coincidence of similar tastes in jewelry or is it a hint of something else?_

The staff had filed out of the canteen after coffee break, leaving Captain Peacock and Mr. Humphries alone. Mr. Humphries nursed the remainder of his coffee as Captain Peacock added up each staff member's commission tallies for the week. The totals had to be in to accounts by close of business Wednesday in order for them to be paid on Friday.  
Captain Peacock meticulously added the figures, furrowing his brow and licking the tip of his pencil.

"I know about you and her," Mr. Humphries muttered conspiratorially.

Captain Peacock looked up from his work and did a double take, "I beg your pardon, Mr. Humphries. What are you talking about?"

Mr. Humphries leaned closer, his lips almost brushing Captain Peacock's ear, "You and Mrs. Slocombe. I know you two have been having it off for quite some time now."

Captain Peacock's eyebrows shot up and he nervously looked around, "Keep your voice down!" he whispered.

"So it's true?" he mused, smiling wistfully, locking eyes with him.

"That's preposterous!" he huffed.

"Come on now, Captain Peacock. I see the way she looks at you. Her whole attitude has been changed. She's a much happier person."

"What's that to do with _me_?" Captain Peacock asked, "Perhaps she's been taking that St. John's wort they have at the chemist's counter. I hear that's good for mood enhancement."

"St. John's _wart_, indeed!" he scoffed, "More like Captain Peacock's boil!"

Captain Peacock fumed, "So what's your point?"

"My point is, perhaps you'd like to try something a little different, maybe you'd like to add some spice to your life," he proposed, "Take a walk on the wild side, so to speak."

Captain Peacock looked tensely at his watch, "Meaning?"

"I'll discuss it with you later. I have an offer you might not want to refuse," he teased.

"Are you planning to black mail me? Because if you are…" Captain Peacock warned, narrowing his eyes.

"No. Not at all," Mr. Humphries interrupted, "What I'm offering is pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. Just hear me out. After work. Not here."

"We'd best get back to the floor," Captain Peacock stood up and hurried out of the canteen. He looked back to see Mr. Humphries smiling mischievously.


	2. Breaking the Ice

**Breaking the Ice****  
****  
****  
**The closing bell rang and Mrs. Slocombe, Mr. Lucas, Mr. Grainger, and Miss Brahms all sprinted for the lifts. Mr. Humphries bid farewell to Mr. Lucas, and lagging behind, pulled the covers over the counters. Captain Peacock checked the till and did one last walk-through of the fitting rooms. When they were assured the others had gone, Captain Peacock expectantly looked over at Mr. Humphries who was watching him.

"Mr. Humphries?" Captain Peacock addressed him, "Are you free?"

"I'm free!" he trilled.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Captain Peacock called.

"Shh... Not here. Mr. Rumbold might still be in his office. One of his secretaries might be lagging about. Or Harman might be on the floor. Come on," he said indicating the lift.  
They walked up the stairs and Captain Peacock pressed the lift button. The lift girl had gone for the day, so they were alone. The lift bell dinged and the doors slid open with a whoosh. As soon as the doors closed and the lift chugged its descent, Mr. Humphries pushed the STOP button, successfully sticking the car between floors.

"Mr. Humphries! What're you playing at?" Captain Peacock exploded.

"Shh…" he said softly moving closer to Captain Peacock who was standing with his back against the wall, "You're too uptight. But I want to help you with that."

Mr. Humphries' eyes locked on his.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked suspiciously, his eyes darting back and forth.

Mr. Humphries moved closer. Captain Peacock could smell Mr. Humphries' aftershave, a light scent of sandalwood. It was rather intoxicating.

"Your eyes aren't as foreboding in this light as they are on the sales floor," he whispered, cupping Captain Peacock's face in his hands, "And you have very alluring lips…"  
Mr. Humphries' hands slid inside Captain Peacock's woolen overcoat and his arms wrapped round his waist.

"W-w-what are you doing?" he stammered as Mr. Humphries pulled Captain Peacock's face to his and gently pressed a soft kiss on his mouth.

Instinctively Captain Peacock pursed his lips and received the kiss. He was surprised at how soft Captain Peacock's moustache was, not bristly like he had imagined.

"Well, that went better than I expected," Mr. Humphries smiled.

"It wasn't bad," Captain Peacock sighed apprehensively, his breath hitching.

"Well, you didn't recoil in horror at least," he chuckled, "Your lips are very soft…and delightful."

Captain Peacock's eyes slid shut and Mr. Humphries kissed him again, sliding his tongue between his parted lips. His eyes flew open and he pulled back, gasping.

"Was it _that_ bad?" Mr. Humphries inquired.

"No. You put your tongue in my mouth; I wasn't expecting it," he explained, "Try it again; I'll be ready for it this time," he explained, unsure of why he was engaging in this activity with his junior. For some reason he was drawn to it. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity, but he wanted to feel Mr. Humphries' lips on his again.

Mr. Humphries smiled and Captain Peacock leaned into the kiss. Timidly he touched the tip of his tongue to Mr. Humphries' tongue. He nudged his knee between Captain Peacock's thighs. The usually staunch floorwalker's knees buckled a little as his entire body crackled with electricity at the unfamiliar sensation. He wrapped his arms round Mr. Humphries' shoulders, pressing hard against him, and their kiss deepened; he opened and closed his mouth as they kissed, moaning softly. Mr. Humphries' blue eyes sparkled.

They pulled back, breathless, and Captain Peacock gasped as Mr. Humphries' hand sought his trousers. Mr. Humphries' smiled widely as he discovered his partner's obvious arousal. Captain Peacock's cheeks flushed crimson.

"You're lightening up. That's good," Mr. Humphries took Captain Peacock's hands in his.

"What's this all about? Why me? I thought you and Mr. Lucas were…"

Mr. Humphries shook his head, "No. James is terminally _hetero_sexual. We joke and he goes along with some things, but he would never do this…"

"I'm not sure why I'm doing this," Captain Peacock whispered.

"You _need_ this!" Mr. Humphries stated, "I see you chasing Rumbold's secretaries and the female customers. You're trying _too_ hard to prove you're straight. I mean, really, _Mrs. Slocombe_?"

"She makes dinner and tea for me sometimes…"  
Mr. Humphries took Captain Peacock's face in his hands again and pressed a warm kiss to his lips.

"I bet you don't feel like _that_ when she kisses you!" he taunted.

"True," he conceded.

"Who better to know what makes a man feel good, than another man?" Mr. Humphries challenged.  
Captain Peacock ruminated a moment, his eyes dark and intense, and he leaned in for another searing kiss.

"Where?" Captain Peacock finally asked when their lips parted.

"Well, my place is out. Me mother is home when I get home from work. Where do you and Mrs. Slocombe usually go?"

"We go to her place mostly," he held Mr. Humphries close, "Mrs. Peacock is going to visit her sister in Cliftonville for the weekend. I'll get her off on the train early Friday morning before work. She won't be home until Sunday evening. You can come home with me after work on Friday; no one will suspect a thing."

Mr. Humphries grinned conspiratorially, "Oh-ho! A grass widower! Remember when there was that transport strike and we had to set up camp in our department and you wore those pyjamas with the short pants?" Mr. Humphries reminisced.

"Yes. Those pyjamas were god-awful!" Captain Peacock made a face.

"Well, they revealed how _endowed_ you are. You know…not a day has passed that I don't think of that. I watch you standing there in your floorwalker regalia and wonder what it would be like with you," Mr. Humphries admitted.

"What exactly are you planning?" Captain Peacock asked.

"Uh-uh-uh," Mr. Humphries waggled a finger and playfully admonished, "Not until Friday! You can wait two days, can't you?"

"Yes. I suppose I'll have to," he breathed and cupped Mr. Humphries' face in his hands and initiated the tenderest kiss, pressing his hips against him.

"We'd best be going," Mr. Humphries said as he pressed the START button on the control panel, "Otherwise the cleaning people will lock us in for the night."

"Mm-Hmm," Captain Peacock nodded as the lift car lurched and resumed its descent.  
Mr. Humphries leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, "Until Friday…"

"Until Friday."


	3. Maiden Voyage of Captain Stephen Peacock

**The Maiden Voyage of Captain Stephen Peacock Part 1**

Captain Peacock could barely contain his apprehension as he walked round the Ladies' and Gents' Departments. His mind was preoccupied with what he had said and done two days prior in the lift. It was almost two o'clock before he realized he had not signed his name in the sign-in book that morning. At coffee, Mr. Humphries lagged behind in the canteen as he sat there nursing his coffee.

It was Mr. Humphries' words, "Are we still on for this weekend?" that snapped him back to reality.

"Yes. I'm looking forward to it," Captain Peacock whispered, smiling sheepishly and scratching his chin.

"So am I," Mr. Humphries said softly.

* * *

The closing bell rang and the staff scrambled up the stairs for the lifts, hurriedly saying their good-byes. Saturday was a bank holiday, so the store was shut.  
Captain Peacock and Mr. Humphries would have the entire weekend to themselves.

"Do you want to pick up dinner on the way home or cook something when we get there?" Captain Peacock asked as he and Mr. Humphries got into the car.

"Let's just head straight away to the house. We can nosh on something there," Mr. Humphries suggested.  
Captain Peacock nodded and cranked the engine and they were off.

"I don't believe you've ever been to my house, have you, Mr. Humphries?" Captain Peacock asked.

Mr. Humphries shook his head.

"Please. We're not at the store now and we are going to get to know each other very intimately. My name is Claybourne. Call me Clay," he smiled.

"Alright…Clay" he said hesitantly, "And you should call me Stephen. I must admit, I'm rather nervous about this weekend. You know…what's going to happen and all. I've never done this…" he cleared his throat, "been with a man before…"

"It's like being with a woman, but different!" he joked, trying to ease the tension.

Captain Peacock laughed nervously. Mr. Humphries gently touched his hand, "Don't worry. I'll start you out slowly…with something you'll really like."

Captain Peacock nodded as he pulled the car into his driveway. They stepped out and walked to the front door. The air was cool and crisp, following an afternoon shower, as Captain Peacock fumbled with his keys, trying to steady his hand and unlock the door. Mr. Humphries snaked his arm round his waist.

Mr. Humphries gently put his hand on Captain Peacock's back, "It's alright," he said, "Calm down. You can still back out if you want to."

Captain Peacock took a deep breath, "No, no. I-I-I want to do this. You've piqued my curiosity. I mean, just doing something once doesn't convert me, does it?"

Mr. Humphries chuckled, "No. You'd be surprised at how many men your age have it off with other men."

The lock clicked open and they stepped inside. Captain Peacock reached for the light switch and the room instantly illuminated. He set his homburg on the entry table with Mr. Humphries' trilby nestled next to it.

"Really?" Captain Peacock mused, "Are they…you know?"

"No. Many are married just like you. They just like a little extra spice in their lives, that's all. It's all very low-key."

"You will keep this…how should I say…confidential?" he asked, concerned, "If word got out, it could mean both our jobs."

"Of course!" Mr. Humphries reassured him.

The door closed behind them and Captain Peacock set the latch. He stepped out of his shoes and Mr. Humphries did the same. Captain Peacock couldn't help but wonder how many of the men who come to bridge club Wednesday nights are having it off with other men.

"Would you like some tea or should I make us some scrambled eggs or baked beans on toast? Anything you fancy," he offered, "Maybe a drink?"

"Nothing for me right now, Stephen, thank you. We can eat afterwards," Claybourne said, taking his hands.

He looked around the foyer and lounge of Captain Peacock's staunchly decorated home. The stiff atmosphere hung heavy with the smell of cleaning products. The lounge was impeccably arranged, the settee and coffee table in the center of the room atop a Persian rug. The crystal chandelier hovered above the dining room table. The sideboard, adorned with a myriad of liquor bottles and decanters looked like a big city skyline. A grandfather clock ticked stuffily in the corner.

"Alrighty then. Where to?" he said, clasping his hands together.

"Upstairs," Claybourne said, stating the obvious, "The bedroom _is_ upstairs, right?"

"Yes," Stephen said quietly as the reality of the situation began to descend on him.

"Come now. You're not getting cold feet _now_, are you?" Claybourne accused.

"No, of course not. Just nervous, that's all," he admitted, scratching his chin apprehensively.

Mr. Humphries unbuttoned his khaki overcoat and set it on the arm of the sofa. He stepped in front of Stephen and began to unbutton his black overcoat. He snatched the red carnation out of Stephen's lapel and sniffed it. He slid the coat off Stephen's shoulders and laid it on top of his.

"We should go upstairs, Claybourne," Stephen whispered, taking his hand and leading him.

* * *

"So this is it? This is the Peacocks' little love nest?" Mr. Humphries tittered as they entered the bedroom.

"Hardly," Captain Peacock smiled dryly.

The room was at the end of the hall, flanked by a spare bedroom turned study and the loo. The four-poster bed was dressed in a thick jewel-toned comforter and four overstuffed pillows.

"Oh, this will do swimmingly!" Mr. Humphries nodded toward the bed.

Captain Peacock unbuttoned his jacket and placed it on the back of his wife's vanity chair. Then he turned to Claybourne and removed his jacket. Claybourne seized Stephen's tie and pulled him close. Stephen closed his eyes and their lips met. His hands slid to Claybourne's hips as they kissed passionately. Stephen reached for Claybourne's tie and loosened it. Claybourne slid Stephen's braces down. When he arrived at Stephen's waist, Mr. Humphries began to unbutton his grey flannels and Stephen divested himself of his dress shirt.  
Tiring of the dreadfully slow pace things were progressing, Claybourne looped his fingertips into the waistband of Stephen's trousers and snatched them down. Stephen stood in his paisley silk boxers with his trousers bunched around his ankles.

Claybourne pulled the waistband of Stephen's boxers and peered inside, "Hello in there!" he called playfully, "We finally meet!" and plunged his hand in, gently closing it round Stephen's half-flaccid erection.

"What're you going to do?" Stephen asked nervously and bit his lower lip.

"I'm going to make you feel _very_ good," Mr. Humphries confidently informed him as he slid to his knees before the usually self-assured floorwalker.

Claybourne gently tugged Stephen's boxers down and his erection sprung at him.  
Stephen's breath caught in his throat as Claybourne's lips closed round him. Mr. Humphries cupped his backside and began to caress him with his mouth and lips. He took the full length of him in and stroked him painstakingly slow. Stephen's whole body jolted awake with intense arousal. He began to pant erratically, sucking his breath through clenched teeth.

"Oh, God!" he groaned, his breath ragged, his thighs tightening, his eyes clamped shut.

Stephen ran his fingers through Claybourne's hair, his knees going weak. Claybourne gently scratched the backs of his thighs, driving the older man mad. He looked down, watching himself disappear and reappear between those supple lips. Stephen's face screwed up in ecstasy.

Captain Peacock could feel his climax building inside him and moaned loudly, his thighs quivering, "Claybourne…um," he panted, "I'm going to… Oh, God!" He held onto Claybourne's shoulders for dear life, biting his lower lip hard and moaning, his eyes tightly closed.

Claybourne stroked him rhythmically; Stephen unconsciously thrusted a few strokes, palming the back of Claybourne's head. He grabbed Stephen's bum, holding him in his mouth as the pinnacle of ecstasy washed over him.  
Stephen threw his head back and yowled his release, his breathing choppy, his heart drumming furiously in his chest.

"Well done, Captain Peacock!" Claybourne congratulated him, "You have arrived."

Stephen slowly opened his eyes as Mr. Humphries stood and held him. He could not look his junior in the eyes; instead, he looked down at the wood floor.

"It's alright," Claybourne soothed, embracing him.

After a few minutes, his breath returned to normal and Claybourne pulled back a little to look at him.

"I've never felt anything like that in my life!" Stephen gushed, "I didn't think anything could feel that wonderful! My whole body is on fire!"

"The Captain doth approve?" Mr. Humphries arched an eyebrow.

Stephen nodded.

"Good," Claybourne said, "Your turn next."

"_Mine_?" he asked incredulously. He shook his head, "I couldn't do that. I don't know how."

"I'll talk you through it. Nice and slow. You have the lips for it," he said, lightly licking his own lips.

"I need a few minutes," Stephen puffed.

Claybourne stood as Stephen's hands unsteadily unbuttoned his trousers.

"Now what?" Stephen asked.

"Weren't you paying attention?" he joked, "Pull them down!"

Stephen obediently did as he was told. When Claybourne's Y-Fronts slid to his mid-thigh, Stephen was greeted by a impressive erection. He stared at it wide-eyed, having never seen another man's willy full-on before.

"Look at it," Mr. Humphries instructed, "Go on, touch it."

Stephen shyly reached for it, his fingers shakily inching forward. Claybourne placed his hand over Stephen's and led him.

"It won't bite you, I promise," he smiled.

The sensation of another man's erection in his hand was exhilarating. Mr. Humphries moved his hips slightly, causing Stephen to unintentionally stroke him.  
Stephen gasped and pulled his hand back.

"It's alright. You need to get comfortable with the way it feels."

"Claybourne, I don't know if I can do to you what you did to me…" Stephen admitted, embarrassed.

"Nice and slow," Claybourne reiterated.

"Nice and slow," Stephen echoed.

"I'm going to sit on the bed and you're to kneel on the floor," Mr. Humphries directed.

Stephen nodded and knelt before his junior. He was up close and personal with Claybourne's member and he stared at it curiously. At its base was a thatch of soft blonde ringlets. Mr. Humphries had milk-white firm thighs.

"Good. You're getting acquainted. It's really not scary," he smiled, trying to ease the good Captain's tension. Stephen took him in the palm of his hand and studied the length of it.

"Alright. Ready?"

Stephen's eyebrows shot up, "_Now_?"

"Of course now," he said resting his hands on Stephen's shoulders, "Don't worry. It's just the two of us. No one else. Just you and me. Kiss it."  
Stephen closed his eyes and pursed his lips. Claybourne pulled him close until his moustache and lips brushed the tip. Then he allowed Stephen to pull back.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Claybourne asked.

"No. It was alright." Stephen's heart raced in his chest.

"Let's try again, shall we?"

Stephen nodded as he moved toward Claybourne's lap, this time on his own. He inhaled the alluring muskiness of Claybourne's arousal.

"Lick it," Claybourne invited.

Stephen's nervously opened his mouth, his breath becoming deep and labored with apprehension. His tongue barely grazed the tip and he then quickly pulled back, opening his eyes.

"That was good. Now we're going to try holding just the tip in your mouth a few seconds. It's alright. Everyone has a first time."

Stephen leaned close and opened his mouth, allowing the tip to slide in. It was surprisingly smooth and warm and there was a salty-sweetness to it.

"Close your lips. Hold it…hold it…you're doing good," Claybourne coached, "You don't suck it yet!" he chuckled at his pupil, "You can open your mouth now."

Stephen pulled back and stared at the glistening soft flesh that had been in his mouth. It really wasn't scary and he was warming up to the idea of making someone lose control as he had just a few minutes earlier.

"Stephen, you're going to take a little more of it in your mouth and hold it, alright?"

"Yes. That will be fine. I think I'm getting used to it now," he said, his confidence growing.

Stephen moved in closer, opening his mouth a little wider and positioning his tongue to accommodate him. Captain Peacock ran his tongue over the tip and then enveloped the whole length of him. He gripped Mr. Humphries' thighs firmly.

"Do you need a few minutes, Stephen?" he asked him, speaking softly and watching the man who was usually barking orders and doing everything by the book, kneeling before him with his bell end in his mouth. It was almost comical, but he dared not laugh. This was going to be a weekend to remember for a long, long time!

Stephen shook his head and then pulled his head back until he felt the tip touch the inside of his lips, then he pushed forward until his nose came to touch the soft blonde curls of Claybourne's man-hair and he smelled that delicious scent of him. He pulled back again.

"Watch the teeth, Stephen! Only lips, mouth and tongue; other than that you're doing fine!" he coached.

Claybourne cradled Stephen's head in his hands and gently moved in sync with his stokes.  
Mr. Humphries' breath came in deep pants and he let out a soft moan, which inflamed Stephen, urging him on. Claybourne's thighs tightened and he arched his back. He rolled his feet onto tip-toes, watching as Stephen worked fervently.  
Claybourne held Stephen's head in place as he thrusted a few strokes and let out a strangled groan as his climax overtook him.  
He watched as Stephen's eyes grew wide with alarm.

"Good! Good! Swallow it!" he panted, "Swallow it!"

Poor Stephen tried his best, but his gag reflex kicked in and his face went white in horror as he lurched. He turned to the side, supporting himself against his thighs, retching violently. His hand flew to his mouth and he scrambled on all fours to his suit jacket to retrieve his handkerchief. Coughing and sputtering, he dabbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Claybourne. I couldn't swallow it!"

"It's understandable. It's your first time," he sympathized.

"Did I do well?" Stephen looked at him in anticipation.

"It was alright," he assessed.

"Only _alright_? You…you know…there at the end," Stephen tried to rationalize.

"I can do that with me own hand! It was alright for a first time. Some men don't get past the looking stage. So in that respect, you did well," Claybourne reassured him, "Well, now that your stomach is empty, do you want to eat?"

"Yes. I think I fancy some tinned soup." Stephen nodded.

"Sounds good," Claybourne agreed.

* * *

After a quick dinner of tinned tomato soup and brown bread, they retired to the bedroom.

"You'd better get some rest. You'll need your strength for this next event," Claybourne informed him.

He softly kissed Stephen, reached over, and snapped off the bedside lamp. Captain Peacock lay there in the dark, eyes wide open, ruminating. Mr. Humphries' breathing slowed until he succumbed to sleep. Stephen's stomach tightened, an intense feeling of dread overcoming him. He

"Clay!" Stephen whispered, nudging him.

Mr. Humphries gasped awake, his voice was heavy with sleep, "Hmm? What is it?"

Stephen adjusted himself higher on the pillows so he was sitting up a little, "What if…what if…" Captain Peacock stumbled over his words, "What if I can't go back?"

"Back to what, love?" Claybourne asked, trying to shake the fogginess from his head.

"You know…_back!_"

"You mean back to your boring relationship with your wife…back to the way you were?"

"Precisely," Stephen nodded slowly.

"You can't, dear. I'm sorry. Once this door has been opened, you're not the same."

"_Why?_ Why did you proposition me?" Stephen panicked.

"You accepted. Look, let's not fight."

"But w-w-what if it turns out I only want to be with _men_?" he stammered.

"You say that like it's a bad thing! This is all normal reaction for your first time. Don't get hysterical. Get some rest," Claybourne took Stephen in his arms and comforted him, gently stroking his hair.

Stephen turned to the edge of the bed, sulking, trying to get comfortable. Claybourne's warm arm stole round him and his body molded to Stephen's. He stiffened as he felt Claybourne's hips press against his.

"Shh…It's just me. Relax. I want you to get used to me…"

"But, honestly, Clay, why _me_?" he pressed.

"Remember that time we danced together at Grace Brothers, when we were practicing for that dance contest?"

"Yes. Go on." Stephen murmured.

"When you held me in your arms, there was something between us. I felt it. Call it chemistry or whatever. But I felt that you were attracted to me. I've always wondered if there was something there. Something deeper than just supervisor-junior dynamics. My hunch was right…"

Stephen pondered Claybourne's words and wondered if subconsciously he had harbored an attraction for the man.  
Stephen settled into his embrace. Claybourne pressed soft kisses against his back and Stephen sighed contentedly. They lay quiet and sated in each other's arms until sleep claimed them.

Captain Peacock awoke the next morning to the delicious sensation of warm lips enveloping him. His eyes fluttered open and he lightly rested his hand on Claybourne's shoulder as he moved up and down. The room was bathed in grey-white light; it was pouring with rain outside, a perfect day for what Claybourne had planned.  
Stephen watched intently as Mr. Humphries took the length of him in; it seemed to come so naturally to him and Stephen couldn't help but wonder if it would be like that for him one day. The rain drummed loudly on the roof. The windows smeared with water, blurring the colours of the leaves on the trees outside.  
Stephen began to moan in rhythm with Claybourne's actions; he gripped Stephen's hips firmly, his breath gasping. His toes curled and he groaned and he could feel himself being pressed against the roof of Claybourne's mouth. Claybourne added his lithe hand to the equation and stroked him as he was pulled into a vortex of passion. Captain Peacock's head slammed back against the pillows, thighs quaking, yowling, as his release claimed him, wave after wave battering him. His chest heaved and his head was spinning as if he were drunk. Claybourne sat up and turned to face him. Stephen's eyes were closed tightly, a satisfied smile playing over his lips.  
Mr. Humphries leaned in and planted an open-mouth kiss on Stephen's full lips.  
Stephen's arms wound round him and he hungrily kissed him in return, opening and closing his mouth.

"You want to have a go at it?" Claybourne asked, "You seemed a little more comfortable with me doing it this morning."  
Stephen nodded and sat up. Claybourne lay down next to him. Stephen noted the natural curve of Claybourne's erection.

"Sometimes it helps to do it from this angle. It's curved in the same way your mouth is shaped. Nice and slow," Claybourne said softly.  
This time when Claybourne climaxed, Captain Peacock did not gag or retch and was able to follow through.

Mr. Humphries patted his back, "You did it! Well done!"  
Stephen smiled shyly.

"Would you like breakfast? I'll make something," Captain Peacock offered, sliding out of bed.

"Yes, we should eat something. We have a big day ahead of us!"

Stephen nodded, a skittish feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.  
After a light breakfast and coffee, the two lovers retreated to the shower to refresh themselves. Stephen hadn't taken a shower with another man since the Army and the experience aroused him. They toweled each other dry and returned to the bedroom.  
Claybourne fluffed and stacked the pillows in the center of the bed.

"What're you doing that for?" Stephen asked, smoothing his hair into place.

"To make you as comfy as possible," he smiled wistfully, "Alright. It's time."

Stephen's heart beat wildly.

"Position yourself with your chest on top of the pillows, on your knees," Mr. Humphries instructed him.

Captain Peacock began breathing heavy and he looked at Mr. Humphries fretfully.

Mr. Humphries leaned over and pressed moist open-mouthed kisses on the backs of Stephen's thighs; he moaned softly and Claybourne's lips curled in the most warm and genuine smile. He walked over to Mrs. Peacock's vanity and surveyed the Spartan assortment of bottles.

"Let's see what your good lady wife has here that we can use for lubricant."

Captain Peacock chuckled, "I'm afraid it's very utilitarian. Mrs. Peacock just has a few basic items."

Mr. Humphries opened the lid of a jar of Pond's cold cream, brought it to his nose, and took a sniff. He then poked his finger into it and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

"Not my first choice, but…" looking skeptical at the cream, his voice trailing off.

"Any port in a storm," Captain Peacock finished the thought.

Claybourne returned to the bed with the jar of cold cream. He dug some out and plopped a dollop on Stephen's dark pink rosebud. Stephen flinched.

"It's alright," Claybourne reassured him, "It's a little chilly, but we'll get it warmed up in no time."

Gently, he inserted a finger. Stephen gasped and stiffened.

"You'll have to relax," Mr. Humphries cooed, working his finger in and out, "How's that?"

Stephen unintentionally blew a raspberry.

"Well, if that's how you feel about it…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen," Stephen apologized, mortified.

Claybourne chuckled, "It's quite alright. That happens quite frequently, actually."

Stephen gripped the edges of the pillow. Claybourne slid his finger out and then inserted his thumb. Stephen tensed, his breath hitched, and he squeezed his cheeks together tightly. He feather-brushed Stephen's thighs with his fingertips, calming him.

"Need to use the loo? It's more painful if…"

"No, I've been…"

Claybourne resumed his ministrations.

"I'm really nervous, Clay."

"It's understandable…I have to be brutally honest with you; the first time is usually quite painful. There's no way I can prepare you for it. My thumb is no substitute for what's to come."

He let Mr. Humphries' words settle on him and felt a wave of panic washed over him. He swallowed hard.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ Stephen thought.

"You _can_ change your mind…"

"No. I want this," Stephen breathed.

"It's going to be alright. Just you and me."

"Nice and slow…" Captain Peacock repeated the mantra.

"Nice and slow," He stated, "Ready?"

"Yes. I suppose we'd best get on with it…"

Claybourne picked up the jar of cold cream and scooped out a generous amount and slathered it the length of himself. Gripping Stephen's hips, he delivered a few external practice thrusts, his hardness pressing insistently against Stephen's; the sensation drove the older man wild.

He spread Stephen's cheeks, "Deep breath. You're going to feel a _lot_ of pressure."

Steady force forward, Claybourne inserted the tip. Stephen buried his face in the pillow and let out a guttural scream. Claybourne waited.

"Shh…shh…shh," he whispered, gently rubbing his back, "It's just the tip. I'm going to push in a little deeper. Breathe," he ran his hands along

Stephen's thighs and bum. Stephen winced and pinched his cheeks together.

The searing pain went all the way to Stephen's fingertips. His whole body trembled in agony.

"Oh, God! This hurts so bad!" he cried.

"Relax. It goes easier if you relax. You're all tense."

"Oh, feck! How can I relax? I'm not meant for this," he whinged.

"You _are_ meant for this! You have a beautiful firm arse. You have long, incredible dancer's legs. You're not hairy, thank goodness. The first time is always painful."

"This is excruciating! Please stop," he begged.

Stephen's thoughts ran rampant, scattered and swirling: the time his mother walked in on him having the vinegar strokes in the bathtub; why did it take four years to propose to Olivia?; the first time he had it off with Betty; his 20-year anniversary at Grace Brothers; his first cigarette; being in the Army chasing Rommel across the desert; the first time he attended the theatre; ice cream; his first pair of roller skates, the time his cat got caught in a tree; the death of his father.

Claybourne pushed in fully and waited. Stephen shrieked into the pillow, sweating, his breathing staccato and raspy.

"Calm down," Claybourne soothed, "You're doing fine."

"I'm _not_ fine!," he wailed, panting uncontrollably, "You've gone in further! I asked you to stop and you went in _deeper_!"

"The worst part is over. I'm all the way in," he murmured, reassuringly.

Claybourne ran his hands up along Stephen's sides, lightly tickling him. He laid his chest on Captain Peacock's back, and reaching under, began rubbing his nipples tenderly. He whimpered as Claybourne planted wet, open-mouthed kisses on his shoulders.

"See? You liked that! Shh.." he tried to calm his friend.

He straightened up and slid his hands to Stephen's waist, "Breathe out when I push in and breathe in when I pull back. We'll get a rhythm going. In…"  
Stephen sucked his breath in choppy hiccups, his stomach twisted in knots.

"Ready? Out…."

He exhaled short little puffs.  
Mr. Humphries reached under and ran his hand along Stephen's tight stomach, tracing the trail of hair down and wrapped his hand round Stephen's keen erection. Even in the midst of intense physical agony, his mutinous libido responded. His mind went foggy, spiraling and dizzy, as Claybourne worked his hand, pumping him furiously.  
Stephen bit the pillow, his face dug in, bucking wildly against Claybourne, tears burning his eyes, screaming his release until hoarse.

"Good boy! Nicely done…yes! Yes! That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" he celebrated, "Oh, you've done beautifully! That was lovely."

Panting, Stephen collapsed onto the pile of pillows, spent and drenched in sweat. Claybourne continued, digging his nails into Stephen's hips. He thrusted deeply, grunting, his head swimming. The bed creaked and sweat ran down the center of Claybourne's back in rivulets. He drew his breath sharply through tightly clenched teeth, groaning as he sought his own release. He slammed hard into Stephen, as his climax wracked him. Stephen was too exhausted to respond.

"Oh, that's much better. See how much easier it is once you stop fighting it?" he said between panting breaths.

Captain Peacock could only nod slightly.

"Am I bleeding?" Stephen hiccoughed as he spoke.

"No. Surprisingly, that part of the human anatomy is very pliable and can stretch quite a bit. I'll run a bath for you."

He slowly backed out and Stephen shuddered. The air hung heavy with the perfume of their lovemaking: a mix of sweat, musk, stale after shave lotion, and bleach.

"Stay here," Claybourne said as he minced to the loo. Captain Peacock could hear the screeching of the tap being turned on and the water splashing into the empty bath. Mr. Humphries took a bottle of lavender bubble bath from the washroom cupboard, removed the cap and sniffed it, and poured some into the gushing stream of water. He walked back to the bedroom; Stephen was right where he left him, crumpled and heaving.

Claybourne sat on the edge of the bed and playfully tousled Stephen's hair, "You alright?"

Stephen looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, love. I tried to be as gentle as possible," he breathed, "Your bath is ready."

"Thank you."

Stephen slowly eased off the bed, his backside still throbbing. He winced.

"Here, let me help you," Claybourne proffered his hand.

Stephen took small steps to the loo. The room was filled with steam and the calming aroma of lavender.  
Captain Peacock slipped beneath the layer of steaming, fragrant bubbles. He flinched as his bum touched the hot water. He tried to relax, but his body was alive with exhilaration. Part of him was terrified.

_What have we done? _his brain screamed _What if Olivia had walked in on any of that?_

Part of him was excited almost to the point of arousal.

Mr. Humphries joined him in the large tub, the water rocking with his entrance.

"When will it be my turn?" Stephen asked softly.

Claybourne's eyes went wide with surprise and adulation, "We'll nap awhile, then you can have a go."

"Alright," he nodded.

"You really want to do this?"

"Yes. I've come this far, I want the full course."

"That's a good sport! You did quite well for your first time, Stephen."

"You think so?" he asked, his eyebrows raised, "I thought I was dying! My bum is still on fire! It's like that time Harman ordered us that spicy Szechwan chicken from the Chinese takeaway."

"It's like that everyone's first time. I bet it was like that for Mrs. Peacock as well."

"I don't think she screamed," he sleepily said in his Royal Signal's Voice.  
Stephen closed his eyes, allowing the water to wash over him.


	4. Maiden Voyage Part 2

**Maiden Voyage Part 2.2**

It was Stephen's turn. His body tingled with anticipation. He felt a prickling akin to the first time he sneaked into his father's garage with the neighbour girl and lost his virginity. He chuckled at the surrealism of it.

Claybourne re-stacked the pillows and climbed onto the bed and into position. Captain Peacock had never seen anyone from this perspective. The rear view of the male anatomy, the backs of Claybourne's thighs, the rise of his bum, and the sleekness of the human form excited Stephen beyond his wildest dreams.

"What do I do?" he asked nervously.

"Put a blob of cold cream _there_," Mr. Humphries pointed.

Stephen swiped his finger through the thick cream and smeared it where Claybourne had indicated. He noted how it looked like little pursed lips.

"Do I need to put my finger inside?"

"No," he shook his head, "Now get a good amount and rub it all over yourself. Slather it on thick."

"There?"

"Yes. The whole length of it."

Stephen followed Claybourne's instructions, "Now what?"

"It's show time!"

"Should I do it the same way I would do it with Mrs. Slocombe?"

"Do you usually go in Betty's back door?" Claybourne asked incredulously.

"Well, no. However, I do fancy a bit of doggy style every now and again. She's quite obliging," he unabashedly admitted.

Claybourne shook his head, blinked his eyes, and licked his lips contemplatively, "Yes. _Similar_ to what you and Betty do…although I'll not be able to look at her the same way ever again!"

He was becoming impatient with the slow, draggy pace in which Stephen was taking this. He rationalized that it was jitters, but Claybourne wanted to get on with it.

Stephen laid his hands on Claybourne's backside and gently pushed his cheeks apart. He entered slowly at first, and then moved his hands to Claybourne's hips, pushing in fully.

"_Good God!_" Stephen gasped, watching Claybourne's tight, sculpted derrière. The sight of his man hair pressed against Claybourne's back end was thrilling and he stared for a moment, smiling widely.

He delivered a few languid strokes to get started, "How are you doing?" he asked Claybourne.

"I'm about to drop off!" he said impatiently, "Don't be timid; I've done this before. Come on, _Captain_ Peacock, give me that military pomp and circumstance you strut around the store with. Let me see what you're made of! Show me what you would have done had you actually caught Rommel in the desert!" he goaded.

Taking this as a challenge, Stephen hugged him round his waist tightly and began to thrust forcefully, his breath getting deeper and more ragged.

Claybourne purred contentedly as Stephen grunted in earnest. He reached under, took Claybourne's erection in hand, and steadily stroked him. It was too much for Stephen to bear and soon he was moaning loudly, eyes clamped shut, hips pumping wildly.

"I'm sorry, Claybourne! I'm not going to last!" he panted as he drove deeply and hollered his release, quivering. Mr. Humphries yowled as his climax overtook him and he bucked against Stephen's hips. He panted furiously and tightly held onto Stephen's arms.

"Good boy!" Claybourne cheekily praised him when his breath slowed, "You did very well, Stephen!"

Stephen's breath slowed to normal, beads of sweat on his forehead.

They lay entwined in each other's arms. Claybourne pressed a chaste kiss to Stephen's lips.

"Do you ever…_you know_," Stephen raised his eyebrows for emphasis, "when you're on the bottom?"

"Oh, yes!" he trilled, "lots of times. I know it's difficult to fathom now, but in time you'll find it quite pleasurable."

"Interesting," Captain Peacock mused, pressing closer to Claybourne.

"There's a place inside where it's like a male G-spot. Once you and your partner get to know each other and get comfortable with each other, he can find that spot. I must warn you, Stephen," Claybourne's voice went serious and soft, "it will be the most intense, wring-your-body-dry, shout from the rooftops orgasm you will ever experience in your life. No woman can even come close to bringing you to the brink of losing yourself like that. Some men never come back after that…"

Stephen's mind churned. He teetered back and forth between wanting to know what that was like and never wanting to go that far. The crescendos he experienced with Claybourne this weekend far exceeded anything he'd ever felt. He couldn't imagine pleasure to the degree Claybourne was describing. He felt himself becoming rigid again and he pressed against Claybourne's thigh.

"I'd like to try that someday, Clay," Stephen whispered, tightening his embrace.

"Just know. You will never be the same," he warned.

The two of them lay entangled in each other's arms, rubbing themselves heatedly against each other, groping their backsides and thighs. Thunder cracked and shook the house and a deluge of rain unleashed. Their lips met and they kissed hungrily, cupping each other's face in their hands.

"There's one more position I'd like to show you," Claybourne whispered when they parted.

"Oh?" Stephen leaned in and planted a kiss on his chest.

"It's a modified missionary position. Your partner lies on his back."

"Let's do it!" Stephen nodded excitedly, eyes wide.

"Slow down, Captain! How bout after lunch? I'm a little hungry."

"Yes. All of a sudden I could go for a little something myself," he agreed.

They stared at each other for a second, and then erupted into a barrage of giggles.

"Oh, God! Is that what we've come to?" Stephen chuckled, "Private lover's jokes?"

"There's nothing wrong with it, Stephen; I rather like to hear you laugh! You haven't laughed much all weekend."

They slipped from between the covers and pulled dressing gowns on. Claybourne borrowed Mrs. Peacock's pink floral print, mid-thigh length one, tying the sash round his waist.

Stephen surveyed him up and down, "Mrs. Peacock never looked as sexy in that as you do!"

Cheekily, Claybourne turned away from him, bent over, and flipped the back of the robe up, mooning him.

"Cheeky devil!" Stephen scolded playfully.


	5. Sunday

**Sunday (AKA All Good Things Must Come to an End)****  
****  
**Captain Peacock and Mr. Humphries' weekend of discovery was coming to a close. They'd showered, drank coffee, and had a full English breakfast

including two slices of tomato. They washed up the dishes and had retreated to the lounge to watch the Chelsea-Fulham football game on telly.

It wasn't long before each caught the other stealing sidelong glances. Stephen slid over to Claybourne's side of the sofa and hooked his arm round his

lover's neck. They sat there entwined, spooning, rubbing each other through their clothes.

Stephen pulled back, "You said you were going to show me that other position," he breathily whispered.

"What time do you have to pick up your wife from the train station?" Claybourne asked, glancing at the mantle clock.

"Not until three-forty five. That gives us more than two and a half hours. We could do it in that time, can't we? Please?" Stephen raised his eyebrows and pouted in anticipation.

"Sex pot!" he teased.

They ran up the stairs like two schoolboys, giggling. Once in the room, they quickly stripped down.

"You sure about this?" Claybourne asked him pointedly.

"Yes, Clay."

"Alright," he rolled his eyes, "Lie down, Stephen," Claybourne directed.

"On my back?"

"Yes," he said, reaching for the well-used jar of cold cream, "Roll your hips back and then I'm going to hook your knees with my elbows. Alright?"

"Mm-Hmm," he confirmed, putting his full trust in his teacher.

"Lots of pressure. Relax." he soothed as he slid in. Stephen winced, but did not cry out.

"That's not bad," Stephen exhaled the breath he didn't realize he was holding, "There's a degree of pressure and a little discomfort, but it's not excruciating. Does this mean I'm getting used to it?" he asked, concerned.

"Maybe a bit. But this position is a little more comfortable."

"Why didn't we start with this one then?" he asked, miffed.

"Because some hetero men can't handle their first time and I didn't want you vomiting all over me! Now shush!" he said, putting his finger to his pursed lips.

Claybourne began in earnest, watching Stephen's face flip-flop between pleasure and pain and back. Stephen's eyes shot open wide and his breathing became erratic, a low moan welling up inside him. Claybourne reached forward and rubbed his nipples, sending the floorwalker into a frenzy. Using his legs, Stephen pulled himself to Claybourne, thrusting against him. He began clawing his chest, arching his back, and growling wildly.

"I think this is it, Clay!" he gasped wide-mouthed, writhing, "I think this is the one you warned me about! Oh, my God! Yes! Yes! Splendid!" he hovered between absolute abandon and unbridled ecstasy, unable to achieve his release. His toes curled tightly and his thighs throbbed, trembling.

"Come on! That's it! You've got it…there!" Claybourne smiled, undulating and sinking deeper, "A little bit more…steady…steady."

Stephen cried out, enraptured. Claybourne withdrew, released Stephen's legs and lay on top of him, chest to chest. Stephen began to grind and press himself against him, the sensation of feeling another man's erection against him, throwing him over the edge. He shouted wildly, quaking and thrashing uncontrollably, a warm rush erupting between the two men.

Stephen's chest heaved and his heart felt like it would rip out of his chest; he continued to feel after-shocks for several minutes and twitched with each one.

His eyes stayed shut as he gasped for breath. Claybourne watched his friend convulsing with gratification, buried his face in the crook of Stephen's neck and squealed as his own climax washed over him.

"Was that _the one_?" Stephen asked when his breath slowed to panting, a tear rolled down his cheek, "Was that the one you told me about?"

"Yes, Stephen. I believe you just experienced the _B__ig O_ I told you about," Claybourne said soft and sad.

He knew this weekend was winding down.

"Oh, God! I felt like I was being pulled inside out. I came like a wildcat; that was brilliant!" Stephen gushed.

Claybourne pulled back, not so sure it was _brilliant _to show him that. He stood up and padded to the window and opened it. The cool air rustled the lace curtains and wafted past his bare legs. Claybourne then tottered to the restroom for a quick shower, leaving his supervisor writhing between the covers.

"Where're you going?" Stephen whinged.

"I need to wash up, Stephen. It's nearly two-fifty. You should wash up as well," Claybourne said firmly.

Stephen sat up, touching his belly, "May I join you?"

"No. I need some time alone."

Stephen shrugged and slid off the bed, gathering the linen in his arms. He wiped the sheets against his abdomen, padded downstairs to the kitchen, and put the linen into the washing machine.

* * *

They stood at the front door, arms wrapped round each other.

"I had a wonderful weekend, Stephen. Really," Claybourne said quietly, "I've never taken anyone on their maiden voyage before."

Stephen's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Really? Well, you were a patient and sensitive teacher. I shall never forget it. Mrs. Peacock should go visit her sister more often!" he quipped, "Can I give you a lift home?"

"Yes. Please," Claybourne nodded.

"What's going to happen tomorrow, Clay?" Stephen asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are we going to be stealing glances at each other? Sneaking off to the fitting room for a canoodle? Private laughing if anyone mentions sausages, bangers, or swallow? Where do we go from here?" Stephen smiled apprehensively, his eyebrows raised.

"We don't go anywhere from here, Stephen. This is it; the voyage is over," Claybourne said quietly.

"What about us?" Captain Peacock gaped at him sadly.

"There is no _us_, Stephen. I am in a committed relationship with Roger. He allowed me to spend the weekend with you to teach you a few tricks. That's all."

Stephen's shoulders slumped and his face fell, "But I thought…"

"I love Roger. I had a good time with you, but I never intended for it to be anything more than a dirty weekend. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression."

"You _did _give me that impression!" Stephen stammered, "What about all that rubbish about chemistry and such? Was that all a lie?"

"No. I really did feel something between us at Grace Brothers that evening. I found myself fantasizing about what it would be like with you. I talked it over with Roger and he suggested this," Claybourne explained, trying to put his supervisor at ease.

"So now I'm left hanging with this Pandora's Box hanging wide open?" Captain Peacock blasted and his lower lip quivered, "Now what do I do?"

Claybourne wrapped his arms round him and held him, "Shh…shh. It's alright, Stephen," he slowly rocked his pupil and reassured him, "You'll find someone of your own, I know you will."

"But I don't _want_ to find anyone else; I like being with you, Clay," Stephen said, barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry, love," he took his handkerchief from his overcoat pocket and held it to Stephen's nose, "Now, blow!"

Obediently, Stephen puffed into the handkerchief, his slate-grey eyes dark and thoughtful.

"I guess we'd better get going. You still have to pick Mrs. Peacock up from the train station," Claybourne reminded him.

"Yes," Stephen nodded, crestfallen.

Stephen wrapped his arms tightly round Claybourne and crushed his mouth on his. Claybourne's arms snaked round Stephen's neck and the two lovers kissed their final good-bye before opening the front door and Claybourne stepped out and walked to the car.

Stephen turned the key to lock the front door, "I love you," he mouthed under his breath and sighed.


	6. Lionel

**Lionel**

_A/N…Lionel is an OC. I tried and tried to wrap my brain around the idea of Captain Peacock and Mr. Humphries having a serious relationship and I just couldn't do it. I could not work the logistics of how they would be able to work in the same department together without it becoming an issue of fraternization and drama. I couldn't figure how Captain peacock would juggle a Mrs. Slocombe and Mr. Humphries triangle. I set the whole thing to the side and allowed it to simmer. Then taking my cue from what Captain Peacock had wondered the first time he and Mr. Humphries were together, I decided to give him a lover of his own. Enjoy._

Stephen sat in the study nursing his tea and watching the Manchester-Chelsea football game on telly. Lounging in a smoking jacket and house shoes, he sat with his long legs stretched out; he took a drag on his cigarette and blew a gentle smoke ring. Downstairs in the lounge, a lively congregation of bridge clubbers buzzed about. Once he'd set up the card tables and drinks, his involvement was complete and he retired to the solitude of the study. There wasn't much earth-shattering excitement going on in the football game, but it was better than playing cards. Sometimes he would join in with the others, but this evening was the big game and no amount of cards or stimulating conversation could drag him away. He'd spent the first part of the evening observing one of the bridge club members. Most of the others came with a spouse or bridge partner, but Lionel was single and arrived alone.

* * *

There came a soft knocking at the door. Stephen ignored it and continued watching, engrossed in the on-screen action. Again soft knocking. Agitated, Stephen turned his head, "The loo is across the hall!" he yelled over his shoulder at the closed door.

_They really should be using the downstairs toilet!_ he thought to himself and scowled.

This time the knocking was a little more insistent. Stephen sighed loudly and stalked to the door. He grabbed the doorknob and wrenched it open abruptly.

"I said the loo is across..." he stopped mid-sentence and softened as he recognized the inquirer as Lionel.

Stephen studied him a moment: he was about forty-five; light brown hair slightly graying at the temples; tall lean build; about Stephen's height; piercing blue eyes; hair parted on the side; a close-cropped, neatly trimmed beard and moustache with a touch of grey. He was smartly dressed in a burgundy pullover and dark trousers. Stephen straightened as he scanned the man top to bottom.

"Ah! There you are!" Lionel said cheerfully, "I was wondering where you'd gone to!"

Stephen smiled cordially, "I don't care much for card games. Besides the football game is on!"

"Oh, I see it is! I don't care much for cards myself. May I join you?" he shrugged.

Stephen stepped aside to allow the man to enter his sanctuary, "If you don't like card games, then why on earth did you join a bridge club?" he asked suspiciously.

"To meet people," Lionel answered matter-of-factly, "Do you have another of those?" he asked indicating the fag Captain Peacock was smoking.

"Sure," he said, removing the cigarette case from his jacket pocket, flipping it open, and offering him one. He pulled out a lighter and flicked it, lighting the end.

"Ta!" he inhaled and then blew a faint cloud of smoke, "There wasn't much going on in the game downstairs, so I played my hand until I was out, excused myself to the loo and here I am."

"I see," Stephen stated, walking to the settee, "Please. Sit down."

Lionel sat at one end of the settee, Stephen at the other.

"Would you like a drink?" Stephen offered.

"Brandy, please," he said, never taking his eyes off Stephen.

Lionel followed Stephen with his eyes as he walked over to the sideboard and poured the brandy into a large snifter then returned and handed it to him.

Lionel swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass, took a sip, and swiveled to face Stephen, "I saw you looking at me downstairs," he began, smiling.

"I looked at everyone," Stephen said matter-of-factly.

"Yes. But every time I looked over at _you_, you were looking at _me_. I saw you smile and then I saw something else…"

"What?" Stephen asked apprehensively.

"Longing," he said, his features soft and inviting.

"That's absurd! I'm a married man," Stephen scoffed defiantly, flustered. His nostrils flared.

"A married man who's lonely and looking for something," he said, almost accusingly, "There was more to it than just a friendly smile. There was desire in your eyes. I saw it!"

Stephen's face blanched and he swallowed. _Could_ he see it? Was there a look to a man who has been with another man? Did he put out a signal?

Stephen couldn't say anything. He gaped at the man who saw right through him.

"Who sent you? Did Claybourne send you?" he sputtered.

"No. I don't know any Claybourne. Stephen, I've been coming to these _soirées_ of yours for years!" Lionel smoothed, "You _know_ I come alone. But I also leave alone. I came here tonight, as I come every time you host bridge club: looking for someone. I feel as if you are looking for someone as well."

Stephen's stomach flip-flopped and he could feel his palms sweating. He was very much attracted to Lionel; he was closer to his age and he wasn't flamboyant. Stephen much preferred a lover who looked like a man, dressed like a man, spoke like a man, and acted like a man.

"You're right," Stephen admitted finally, "I was looking at you. I found myself staring a few times."

Lionel slid next to Stephen. Stephen could smell the alluring scent of his after-shave.

"I'm attracted to you as well, Stephen," Lionel admitted, "I have been for quite some time. Young men. They feel good, their bodies are beautiful and firm, but they don't want long term relationships with older men. At first it's exciting, then they start to notice the crow's feet around your eyes. I'm tired of playing the field."

"I need to lock the door," Stephen whispered, motioning over his shoulder.

"Of course."

Stephen stood and padded to the door and turned the lock. The bolt set with a soft click and Stephen returned to the leather settee. He sat down and his eyes met Lionel's. Lionel set his drink on the coffee table.

"It's funny," Stephen chuckled, "No one will be looking for us!"

Lionel's face split into a wide grin, "Yes. Your wife knows you're in here watching the game, so she shan't disturb you. And since I'm here alone, no one will notice I've disappeared. It's rather naughty, isn't it?" he licked his lips seductively.

Stephen smiled nervously as Lionel leaned in closer and gently kissed his cheek. Stephen turned into the kiss and their lips met.

The taste of brandy lingered on Lionel's lips and Stephen found it enticing. He slid his tongue between Lionel's parted lips and his breath hitched as Lionel's hands cupped his face. As he kissed Lionel hungrily, a soft moan escaped his lips. The sensation went straight below the belt and Stephen kissed him with reckless abandon; Lionel ran his fingers through Stephen's wavy hair. They pulled back, huffing.

"You have delicious lips, Stephen. I would love to feel them on me," Lionel purred.

Stephen's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry Stephen!" he apologized, "I just assumed since you were checking me out and kissing me like that…I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Stephen looked down and puffed his cheeks as he exhaled.

"Have you ever done it before?" Lionel asked.

Stephen nodded.

Lionel lifted Stephen's chin with a curled a finger and smiled broadly, "Did you like it?"

"It took a little getting used to," Stephen admitted shyly, avoiding his gaze.

"Well, I quite like having it done to me and I give as good as I get," he confided.

Stephen could feel his face grow hot with embarrassment at Lionel's ribald comment.

"You're very handsome when you blush. When was your first time?" Lionel looked deeply into Stephen's eyes.

"Blushing? I've blushed many times! Not lately though, you seem to have caught me off-guard."

"Not _blushing_, you barm-pot!" Lionel chuckled, "Going down."

"It was done to _me_ the first time," Stephen stated firmly. Even in his admission, he would make it a point to mention he did not initiate, thus attempting to save face and maintain his air of haughtiness, "I was in the Army. I had been on guard duty for twenty-four hours with another soldier. My tour of duty ended at six o'clock in the morning and I had returned to the barracks for a shower and to go to bed," Stephen reminisced, his eyes far away, "I was standing in the shower, my eyes closed, and hot water running down my body…"

"Yeah?" Lionel leaned in, crashing through Stephen's barrier, "Then what?"

"All of a sudden I felt…oh, God! I haven't thought about this in _decades_..." he blanched, "I felt the most intense, erotic feeling I had ever felt…I went weak in the knees and had to lean against the wall for support."

"What was it?" Lionel's curiosity piqued and his eyes wide with excitement.

"The man I had pulled guard duty with was on his knees in front of me and he was…uh," Stephen cleared his throat and whispered, "you know... sucking my…" his eyes dropped to his lap, embarrassed.

"Geez! Did he say anything? He just went down on you?"

"One minute, I'm washing my face and hair, the next minute, I'm being serviced," Stephen said incredulously, "The whole night we pulled guard duty he didn't say two words to me."

"Did _you_ say anything?" Lionel asked.

"I think I said something along the lines of 'what do you think you're doing?' and he replied he thought it was obvious!"

"Did you reciprocate? Did you watch?" Lionel asked him excitedly.

"No. I was frozen in fear. I was nineteen when it happened; I didn't know what to do except stand there. I was afraid someone might walk in on us. We were the only ones in the barracks; everyone else was at the mess hall having breakfast."

"Did you enjoy it?" he arched an eyebrow, grinning lasciviously, and leaning in.

"I must have. I...you know," Stephen shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

Lionel chuckled and took a drag off his cigarette, "What happened after that?"

"Oh, it only lasted about five minutes; I was more or less a virgin up to that point…" Stephen laughed.

"No, I mean _after_ that. Did you ever get it together again?"

"No, we never spoke about it; we got shipped off to the war and I never saw him again."

"Have you done anything since?" he asked, "I mean you _were_ keen to kiss me."

Stephen snickered, "Wellll…A few months ago, Olivia went to visit her sister for the weekend. I had a friend over. He showed me a few tricks…"

"Yeah? Did you like it?" Lionel repeated the question in a low velvety voice.

"After about the second or third time, I became rather comfortable with it," he confessed nervously. Why did he find it so easy to admit these things to him?

Lionel leaned in close and pressed his lips against Stephen's ear, "'_Second or third time_'? You must have enjoyed it a little bit!"

"I did," Stephen trembled and his breath caught in his throat; he bit his lower lip and his eyes slid closed as Lionel's lips and tongue caressed his ear lobe, "The first time, I gagged, if you must know," he breathed.

"I think we all did on our first time!" Lionel chuckled, "I bet your wife did her first time. Am I right?"

"She gagged at the mere mention of it!" Stephen cleared his throat and turned to Lionel, "I want to be very frank with you. _If _we pursue this further, it has to be very discreet," he said firmly.

"Oh, yes. Of course! I fully understand," Lionel agreed, "We'll definitely keep it on the down-low. I wouldn't want to jeopardize either of our jobs. Men don't mind you taking their measurements or seeing them in their underwear if you're a womanizer. But they seem to have a problem with it if you're…well, if you have a vested interest, so to speak!"

"Exactly," Stephen replied, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

"So…your first…was he younger?" Lionel arched an eyebrow.

Stephen nodded, "Yes."

"How young?"

"About thirty-five," Stephen said, "Not exactly a boy."

"No. Did you love him?"

"I thought I was falling in love with him, but he made it perfectly clear that he is in a committed relationship," Stephen said sadly.

"Committed relationship? How committed could he be if he was having it off with you on the side?"

"It was just a one-off, just one weekend. His lover was quite understanding…and trusting. I don't know how much it meant to _him_, but it changed _me_ forever. Would you like another drink?"

"You trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me, Stephen?" Lionel joked.

"Of course not!" Stephen bristled, "What about your first time? I've revealed _my_ dirty little secrets. Your turn. When was your first time?"

"Five years ago. It was six months after my divorce from Joliette; we'd been married almost eleven years you know," Lionel stated, raising his eyebrows and screwing his mouth into a smirk.

Stephen nodded, recalling Lionel's arrival at bridge club shortly after his divorce.

"I started dating again. Nothing serious, just a lot of different women. There was this one, Candace. Oh, she was gorgeous! Twenty five, can you believe it? I was forty and this beautiful twenty-five-year-old girl wanted me!" his eyes grew wide and his hands were animated, "We were supposed to have dinner at the Savoy and I booked us a room."

"Hmm, yes, go on," Stephen prompted him, nodding.

"Well, she never showed. I sat at the table about forty-five minutes and then this beautiful young man came over and asked if he could join me; he was alone as well. I explained that I was waiting for someone and he stated that he noticed I'd been sitting there for almost an hour. I just wanted to go back to my flat, but he convinced me to have dinner with him."

Stephen smiled warmly at being taken into Lionel's confidence, "Continue."

"Well, I was skeptical at first, but he pointed out that I was there to have dinner and he didn't want to eat alone. He's a hairdresser and a m_asseuse _at a salon on Sloane Square. So after we had a wonderful dinner and drinks and talked, I told him I booked a room and was going to go up to bed. He offered to come up and give me a massage. I figured 'what the hell', right?"

Stephen nodded, leaning closer.

"Well, Trey, that's his name, has me lie down on the bed naked and gives me the most wonderful full-body massage. His hands were so warm and loving. It was lovely; I was so relaxed, like a rag doll. He had me roll onto my back and worked me top to toe. Facial massage, shoulders, chest, the whole bit. Then, while I'm lying there totally relaxed, almost asleep, he proceeds to give me the most heavenly, incredible blow job I'd ever had in my life! No woman was ever that good!"

Stephen's eyes widened and he chuckled softly, "What did you do?"

"Oh, I enjoyed every minute of it! At first I was scared; I mean I was planning on spending the evening knocking boots with Miss 36-22-36 and instead I'm laying with a hard body, tanned stud giving me head! We spent the rest of the evening making love. He was beautiful and very gentle, but nothing serious. I see him every other week; he does my nails, trims my beard, and gives me a hair cut."

"And a blow job?" Stephen joked.

"That's extra!" Lionel smiled and tittered.

Stephen reached for Lionel's hand and rubbed his thumb against his palm. Lionel leaned in again and their lips met for a searing kiss. Stephen's hands slid to Lionel's hips as his mouth gently opened and closed as they kissed.

Lionel pulled back and gazed at Stephen, "I do hope you'd be interested in pursuing this further. I could get used to snogging like this," he said breathily.

"I think we need to take it slowly. I mean, we're just talking right now, right?" Stephen asked for clarification.

"If you call your tongue in my mouth talking, I guess we're having quite the in-depth conversation!" he teased.

Stephen straightened, narrowing his eyes, "Why did you come up here?"

"I thought I made it clear. I'm interested in you, Stephen and I thought you might be interested in me. Please don't be cross; it's just that it's been awhile for me and I've wanted to talk to you in private for months. I didn't know how you would react until this evening when I saw you ogling me," Lionel said apologetically. He took a drag off his cigarette, exhaled, and stubbed it in the ashtray.

Stephen's ruffled feathers relaxed, "Olivia's mother is ill. She will be going to Diggle by train and will be gone for about a week," he explained as a flicker of excitement danced in his stomach.

"When is she leaving?"

"Friday. I'll be getting her off on the train before I go in to work," Stephen said conspiratorially.

"Day after tomorrow!" Lionel crooned, "D'you suppose we could get it together this weekend? Dinner. Maybe take in a movie, perhaps? Just two friends spending time together."

"I think I would like that," Stephen nodded.

The mantle clock chimed nine o'clock. The football game had ended a while ago and Stephen failed to note the final score. He buzzed with anticipation thinking about spending the weekend with Lionel.

"It'll be breaking up downstairs. I guess we'd better head down there," Stephen said indicating the door.

"I'll kip over to the loo and then you can go down stairs first. While you're helping clean up, I can stealthily slip out," he schemed, smiling mischievously.

Stephen brought his hand to Lionel's cheek, surprised how soft his beard felt. Their lips met one final time, "I'll ring you Friday evening," Stephen whispered.

"Can't wait 'til Friday," Lionel winked.


	7. Telling Claybourne

**Telling Claybourne**

The next morning Captain Peacock stood at his post next to the sign-in book. Mr. Humphries was the first one there and he stepped up to the counter to sign in. Stephen's countenance was radiant which was not lost on Mr. Humphries. He shot Captain Peacock a knowing smile, took the pen, and signed in.

"You've met someone!" he muttered to Stephen.

Captain Peacock did a double-take, "I beg your pardon. Mr. Humphries?"

"You've met someone, haven't you?" Claybourne said praisingly, "You can't keep it from me, Captain Peacock; you're absolutely glowing!"

Stephen blushed and looked down at his feet and nodded.

"I'm happy for you…and him!" Mr. Humphries trilled.

Borrowing one of Mr. Humphries signature quotes, Stephen smiled, "What makes you think it's a _him_?"

Claybourne smiled and winked as the lift bell dinged and Mr. Lucas and Mr. Grainger stepped out.

"Please don't say anything to anyone," Stephen beseeched him nervously.

Claybourne laughed and gently tapped Stephen's arm, "Well done," he whispered as he minced to the cloakroom to hang his overcoat and Trilby hat.

The staff departed the sales floor for their eleven o'clock coffee break.

Captain Peacock read his newspaper quietly as the others buzzed about the latest fuel price hike and what would be served for lunch.

"You're awfully quiet, Captain Peacock," Mrs. Slocombe piped up.

He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry. I'm just not very talkative this morning, I guess," he said and took a sip from his cup. He picked up the biscuit that was perched on the edge of the saucer and nibbled it.

"Captain Peacock, did you watch the game last night? I know your favorite team was playing!" said Mr. Lucas.

"I started to watch the game, but I kipped off before it ended. I see here in the sports page that Manchester won, so maybe it's best I did fall asleep!"

"Wasn't last night bridge club at your house, Captain Peacock?" Miss Brahms inquired.

"Yes, Miss Brahms. Wednesdays our bridge club meets. This week it was at my house. Each week it moves to another house. You thinking of taking up bridge?" he asked.

"I hear you can meet some nice single men at those bridge games. I might look into it. There any sexy men at your club?"

At her question, Stephen began to cough and choke on the sip of coffee he had just swallowed. Mr. Humphries' eyebrows shot up.

"Miss Brahms!" Mrs. Slocombe gasped, "I hardly think Captain Peacock is an accurate judge of sexy men! Perhaps you should ask Mrs. Peacock!"

"I hardly think Mrs. Peacock is reliable, either," Mr. Lucas joked, "Look who she's married to!"

"Mr. Lucas, don't be facetious!" Captain Peacock scolded, "Everybody back to work. Break time's over!"

Mr. Humphries lagged behind as Captain Peacock folded his paper, "You'll have to bring him round for drinks with me and Roger!"

"It's still in the early stages," Stephen said, scratching his chin nervously.

"I understand," Claybourne smiled, "I'm really happy for you, Captain Peacock. Friday evening, Roger's having a little dinner get-together round his place. Casual. Nothing fancy. Join us. You'll be in good company."

"Yes. Maybe we will. Thank you, Mr. Humphries," Captain Peacock beamed.


	8. Friday Night

**Friday Night **

Friday night. Olivia was in Diggle visiting her mother for the weekend. Stephen had the house to himself. He and Lionel accepted Claybourne and Roger's invitation to a casual dinner party. The two stood in Stephen and Olivia's bedroom dressing for the do.

"Do I look alright?" Stephen asked as he passed a lint brush over the cashmere pullover Lionel had given him.

The dark blue garment set off his slate grey eyes beautifully. "Mmmm. You look very smart," Lionel nodded, "That color suits you."

"You have impeccable taste, I must say," Stephen complimented him.

Stephen smoothed his hands over the soft garment, "Oh, this feels lovely."

Lionel brushed his hands over Stephen's chest, "I do like that on you. Very sexy and very distinguished."

Lionel cupped Stephen's face in his hands and covered his mouth with his. He wrinkled his nose and laughed a little when Stephen's moustache brushed his lips.

They pulled back and Stephen gazed into Lionel's eyes and smiled, "Thank you for going with me tonight."

"A get-together where we don't have to walk on eggs or worry about who will see us? Count me in! Is my tie straight?"

Stephen clucked his tongue, checked Lionel's tie, and made a little adjustment.

He pressed his lips to Lionel's, "You look wonderful. I like that Fair Isle jumper."

"This pattern is bespoke for Austin Reed. I'll order one for you. Ready?" Lionel asked, indicating the door.

"I think so," Stephen smiled and together they walked out of the bedroom, "Mmm…What is that scent you have on?"

"It's a new cologne brand that's just come in. Lagerfeld," Lionel informed him.

Stephen leaned in close and sniffed, "Oh, it's lovely."

"Here, try some!" Lionel pressed his cheeks against Stephen's and rubbed, "There! I've marked you! Now people will know you're mine!"

"_Really!_" Stephen huffed, his nostril flaring.

Lionel laughed boyishly and kissed Stephen's chin, "I love your chin! Ready? Come on."

* * *

They arrived at Roger's flat, an old brownstone, and walked up the flight of stairs to the front door. Stephen knocked; the sound of jaunty jazz music pumped from behind the door. They looked each other over and braced themselves for their first public appearance.

"Shh…shh, "Claybourne whispered, "Roger, they're here! Come answer the door with me. This is their first time out," Claybourne poked him.

"They're _out_? Already?" Roger raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Going out in public! Don't be daft!" he scolded Roger, "Green-eyed Peacock would have his head!"

Roger chuckled impishly and nudged him, "I know what you meant!"

Claybourne and Roger opened the door and warmly welcomed their guests.

"Come in. Come in. Welcome!" Claybourne greeted them and wrapped his arms round Captain Peacock and hugged him, "I'm glad you're here."

"_Oof!_" Stephen grunted, knocked off-balance by Mr. Humphries' surprise display of affection.

"Let me take your coats," Roger offered.

"Thank you," Stephen said, handing his dark overcoat to Roger.

"And this must be Lionel," Claybourne trilled.

The younger man wrapped his arms round Lionel.

Stephen introduced Lionel to Clay and Roger…

"Clay, this is Lionel St. James. Lionel...Wilberforce Claybourne Humphries."

"Charmed," Lionel greeted; he turned to Stephen and arched an eyebrow quizzically, "Claybourne?"

Stephen pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Pleased to meet you, Lionel," Claybourne bubbled, extending his hand.

"Lionel, meet Roger Harris." Claybourne said.

"Nice to meet you, Roger Harris," Lionel offered his hand.

"Stephen tells us you're head of the Tailoring and Alterations Department at Austin Reed," said Roger, shaking Lionel's hand.

"Salesmen sell the suit, but I make sure the customer looks _gorgeous_ in it!" he boasted confidently, "The suit doesn't leave my department unless the customer looks good enough to eat!"

"A remarkable garment indeed!" Stephen commented.

"From now on, all of Stephen's suits will come from Austin Reed. I don't want to think of anyone else taking his measurements!" Lionel stated possessively.

"Jealous much?" Claybourne grinned.

"Only a little," Lionel chuckled.

Roger was very handsome: dark brown hair; medium athletic build; striking green eyes; a shade taller than Mr. Humphries; and a sharp dresser, attired in a aquamarine hand-knitted cable-knit sweater (made by Mr. Humphries' mother) and tailored, pleated dark trousers.

Claybourne wore a gold lame suit with matching Italian leather shoes.

"You look a treat, Clay!" Stephen complimented, grinning widely.

"A friend of mine made this for me; it's an exact copy of the one Elvis wore in concert!" he licked his lips, "If you want, I can get one for you!"

Stephen just shook his head and chuckled, "I could wear it to work! Couldn't you just see me walking up to a customer and saying 'Are you being served, sir?' in that suit?"

The four friends laughed at the idea.

* * *

They went into the party and Lionel reached for Stephen's hand. Nervously Stephen laced his fingers with Lionel's.

"It's alright," Lionel whispered, squeezing his hand, "I think we're safe here. Shall we?"

Stephen relaxed enough to walk around without jumping every time there was a knock at the door. They mingled uninhibited with Roger and Claybourne's friends.

The food was delicious. Mr. Humphries prepared savories_, _Blanc mange, and Roge_r _made a wonderful tray of petit fours.

Claybourne approached them and whispered to Stephen, "You look natural together. You look _happy_."

"I am, Clay," he whispered back, his grey eyes dancing.

"What can I get you to drink, Stephen?" Roger asked.

"A large pink gin, please."

"And you, Lionel?"

"Scotch on the rocks thank you, Roger."

Stephen and Lionel sat, hands clasped, talking to a few of Roger and Claybourne's friends. The friends politely excused themselves and Stephen and Lionel were alone. Stephen rubbed his thumb against Lionel's palm and shot him a smoldering look from beneath his brows.

"I think I'd like to go home now, Lionel," he murmured and leaned in to kiss him.

"Down, boy!" he whispered, "We need to wait."

"It's not like I'm going to call her and announce it!"

"We can wait," he said, level-headed.

Stephen's gaze evolved from longing to almost desperate, "I don't want to wait."

"Oh, alright," Lionel groaned, "Come one, then. We'll go."

* * *

**The Next Morning:**

"Good morning, Sunshine!" Lionel crooned, possessively placing a warm hand on Stephen's bare thigh.

Stephen's eyes fluttered open and he looked over at the bedside clock and jumped up… "AAaah!" Stephen cried frantically, "I have to be at work in 40 minutes! I need a shower…"

"I'll go put some coffee on, get your shower," Lionel calmly informed him, slipping out of bed and pulling his dress shirt on.

"Did we…"Stephen asked, raising his eyebrows emphatically, "…last night?"

"No…" Lionel shook his head, "You'd had quite a bit to drink; you passed out soon after I started kissing you."

"Oh," Stephen said disappointedly and padded naked to the washroom.

"However, I quite enjoyed lying here with you in my arms. Nice bum!" he winked and pursed his lips at him, "I'll go make coffee."


	9. Night Takes King

**Night Takes King**

_Lionel and Stephen's relationship blossomed and flourished right under Olivia's nose. On the Wednesdays that the Peacocks hosted Bridge Club, Stephen would set up the card tables and drinks and then retire to his study for the evening. Lionel would play a few hands and then excuse himself to join Stephen in the study for a game of chess, a discussion of the latest novel one of them had read, or to watch telly. The men enjoyed each other's company talking shop and having a cuddle. _

_After several weeks, Stephen slowly developed strong feelings for Lionel. He found it increasingly difficult to kip over to Mrs. Slocombe's for an evening of lovemaking without feeling a twinge of guilt since he had been abstinent with Lionel. _

Stephen and Lionel sat poised, facing each other in brown leather wingback chairs, perched over the chessboard.

Stephen, clad in braces and shirtsleeves, peered over his chess pieces at Lionel. Lionel inched a pawn forward and locked eyes with Stephen. Stephen pushed a piece into place and took a sip from his gin and tonic. Classical music played softly on the Hi-Fi.

Lionel smiled at him, "I like it here with you."

Stephen nodded, "Yes. This is nice. Very relaxing."

Lionel placed another piece, "So how was your day?"

"Busy for a Wednesday. And you?" he said, moving a piece.

"Seemed like more alterations than sales. I'm happy for the work. I don't mind the tall slender ones so much; it's the fat, sweaty and hairy ones that bother me. When I'm on my hands and knees chalking their trousers and they break wind," he groused.

Stephen's eyes were soft and sympathetic, "I promise never to break wind when you're on your hands and knees with me!"

Lionel shot him a flirty look and stood. He walked to the other side of the chessboard, bent over, and planted a warm kiss on Stephen's mouth. Stephen cradled Lionel's face, his fingers gently stroked his beard and opened and closed his mouth, kissing him back.

They pulled back.

"I'd appreciate that, Stephen!" Lionel joked.

They both laughed heartily and Lionel sat down. Stephen's eyes went dark with desire and he stood up and walked over to Lionel's side of the table. Straddling Lionel's lap, Stephen crushed his mouth on his lover's. Lionel slid his hand between them and rubbed Stephen through the fabric of his trousers. Stephen glanced back at the door and then breathily whispered in Lionel's ear, "I'd better check the door."

"Alright," Lionel moaned.

Stephen eased off Lionel's thighs and quickly stepped over to the door and jiggled the knob, ensuring it was secure.

Once he was satisfied the door was bolted, he returned, "Where were we?" he purred, taking his place.

Stephen nipped Lionel's neck, driving the man mad. Lionel wrapped his arms round Stephen and pulled him close and their eyes locked.

"I want to feel you in my mouth," Stephen murmured.

Lionel's eyes flew open in shock and his hands trembled with excitement as he unbuttoned Stephen's shirt and ran his hands inside. Stephen shivered beneath his lover's touch and smiled.

He slid to the floor onto his knees at Lionel's feet. He fumbled nervously with Lionel's belt buckle as Lionel slouched to the edge of the chair, allowing Stephen easier access.

Stephen tugged Lionel's trousers down mid-thigh and lightly kissed his bare thighs and hips, sending him into a breathless fury.

"You sure about this?" Lionel sighed.

Stephen nodded, took a deep breath and closed his mouth round Lionel's rock-hard erection, tasting him.

"Oh, God!" Lionel gasped, savoring the feeling of his lover's warm, wet mouth and tongue caressing him.

Stephen dug his fingertips into Lionel's thighs as Lionel grabbed Stephen's head with both hands, scoring his scalp. Lionel's thighs quivered, his head swam, and the room began to spin.

Stephen worked him fervently, bobbing his head up and down rhythmically.

"Stephen, it's time!" Lionel panted and Stephen took him in deeper, his moustache meeting Lionel's dark brown man hair. He cupped Lionel's backside in both hands.

Lionel threw his head back and thrusted a few times, holding Stephen's head in place. Lionel gasped and his face screwed up in ecstasy and silently climaxed. His heart beat furiously, huffing and panting. Stephen paused, allowing the warm sensation to slide to the back of his mouth before swallowing.

He leaned over and kissed Lionel's thighs. Lionel curled a finger under Stephen's chin and raised his face to gaze into his eyes.

"Checkmate!" Stephen boldly quipped.

"You win!" Lionel breathlessly retorted.

Stephen stood to his feet and buttoned his shirt.

Lionel rearranged himself, took Stephen in his arms and pressed a loving kiss to his lips, "That was lovely! Do you have plans for this weekend?"

"Olivia will be home, so we'll have to lay low," Stephen said dejectedly.

"I guess that will hold me over until we can be together properly. I can't wait 'til I can feel myself inside you."

Stephen closed his eyes and delighted in the thought, "Mmm, that will be lovely."

Their moment was shattered by the sound of car engines starting and the commotion of the bridge club breaking up.

"Where are we next week?" Stephen asked.

"Peterson's. You going?" Lionel smirked.

"_You_ going to be there?" Stephen shrugged

"I'll go, just to flirt with you from across the room. Drive you wild with lust! I'll do this when no one else is looking!" Lionel licked his lips lasciviously.

He took Stephen's hand in his, brought it to his lips, and licked the palm, driving Stephen wild. Stephen curled his fingers round Lionel's beard.

"We'd better go!" Stephen breathed.

Lionel nodded and encircled Stephen in his arms. They softly kissed their good-bye.


	10. Put Up or Shut Up

**Put Up Or Shut Up**

_Lionel wants a commitment from Stephen. Stephen is still married to Olivia and seeing Betty on the side. Lionel does not want to play second fiddle. Stephen likes his time with Lionel, but also enjoys Betty. Relations with Olivia were about nil._

Stephen and Lionel were at a Greek restaurant having drinks and waiting to order dinner. Stephen told Olivia he would be at another one of Mr. Rumbold's cockamamie professional development meetings. He didn't know how many more times he could lie to her and use that tired excuse while actually being out with Lionel.

Lionel gazed at Stephen in the glow of the jar candle. He thought to himself that Stephen was very handsome in this light. Lionel wanted to hold Stephen's hand, but they were in public.

Mustering his thoughts, Lionel leaned in and spoke pointedly, "Stephen, we've been seeing each three months, going on four. I need something more than a little rendezvous here and there. I don't like stolen weekends when your wife is off visiting her sister, mother, brother, and God knows who else. Lying about having a 'gentleman's night out' or what was it tonight? A sales training? I don't want a few hours here. A few hours there. I won't share you. I don't want to be sneaking around. I want to take this to the next level," Lionel said plainly.

Stephen scratched his chin, "I can't just _leave_ Olivia and I don't want to hurt Betty."

"What about _me_?" his blue eyes pleading, "Where do I fit into all of this? I've come to terms with who I am; it's time you did as well."

"I'm sorry, Lionel. It's complicated…I'm very fond of you…"

Lionel reeled back as if he'd been slapped, "One is _fond _of puppies, kittens and grandchildren. I'm _in love_ with you, Stephen."

"I'm sorry, Lionel. I need more time," Stephen tried to stall.

"And _I_ need someone who's not going to string me along. We were having quite a lovely sword fight last week in your study before your wife interrupted us for you to fix the downstairs loo. But sword fights are for lads. I've had your todger in my hand more than I've had my own! I want to make love to you so badly, my body aches for you, Stephen. But I can't go on like this, in limbo."

"I'm not ready, Lionel," Stephen said apologetically.

"Well, _I_ am! I think maybe we ought to see other people," Lionel sighed.

"Wait!"

Lionel stood up and stalked away, leaving Stephen goggling at his retreating form.

* * *

Stephen arrived at work the next day distraught, which did not go unnoticed by Mr. Humphries. After everyone else had filed out of the department to the canteen for coffee, he pulled him aside.

Stephen explained and recapped the whole chain of events.

"I think he's hurt. I didn't want to hurt him, Clay. But right now is not a good time," Captain Peacock rationalized.

Claybourne bristled, narrowing his eyes, "Of course he's hurt, Stephen! It's no different for us than for others. We hurt, too! Don't ride the fence; make up your mind and then tell him," he scowled, "Figure out which way you are going to go; Lionel is a lovely man and he deserves to be treated like one." Mr. Humphries left him and headed to the canteen.

* * *

Stephen went straightaway to Betty's that evening. He urgently knocked on the door, hearing the soundtrack of _Coronation Street_ playing in the background. His stomach wrenched into knots and he felt slightly nauseous.

Mrs. Slocombe peeked through the lace curtain, and upon recognizing him, opened the door wide. Her bright orange hair glowed, backlit by the telly.

"Stephen! What brings you here? We didn't have anything on this evening, did we?" she asked, surprised, noticing his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, "What's wrong, love? Have you and Mrs. Peacock had another row?"

"No, Lionel and I," he sniffed, "May I come in?"

"Of, course, dear" she welcomed him with a small kiss on the cheek, then looked at him suspiciously, "Who's Lionel?"

"My boyfriend," he said, admitting it for the first time.

"When you say _boyfriend_, do you mean a friend that's a boy or like a Mr. Humphries' boyfriend?"

"Mr. Humphries' boyfriend," he muttered.

"Oh…oh…_OH_!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed, "Would you like a cuppa? I just made a fresh pot."

He nodded.

She returned with a tray containing a teapot and two cups. She spooned the sugar, poured the milk into the cups, and filled them with tea. Stephen stirred his tea and took a sip.

"I'm sorry, Betty," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"I can't see you anymore."

"Really?" she said dryly, "Why not?"

"I've found someone else. But I've made a right royal cock-up of it," he cried.

"With Lionel?"

He nodded, "We've been seeing each other for almost four months."

"When you say _seeing_, do you mean seeing with your eyes or is it something else? I'm trying to understand this."

"Dating, actually," he conceded, "I couldn't give him what he wants, so now he wants to see other people."

"What does he want, exactly, or shouldn't I ask?" she asked cautiously.

"He wants a commitment. I thought I could juggle him, Olivia, and you. But he doesn't want that; he wants exclusivity."

"I see," she said flatly, "Stephen, what is it that _you_ want?"

"I don't want to see other people, Betty! I love _him_! I'm afraid I've lost him forever." He buried his face in her lap and sobbed. Betty consoled him, stroking his hair.

"This isn't another one of your infatuations, is it? Mid-life crisis, maybe?"

He shook his head, sobbing, "No. I really do love him. I just figured it out too late. I'm a fool. A _fool_!"

"You poor, tormented man! No wonder you looked harried all day, but I didn't want to pry, you know how you do, you give people their space," she comforted him.

"I didn't know what I had 'til it was gone!" he wailed.

Then her Betty-in-Chargeness took over, "You're weak as water! _Weak as_ _water!_ You chased Rommel through the desert! Quit whinging and go to him, Stephen, if that's what your heart wants! You make it up to him. Bring flowers if need be," she ordered.

"You're not angry?" he asked, shocked.

"I love you, Stephen, but you can't go on living a lie. It's obvious you want him, so go!"

"Am I…you know…?" he shrugged, his eyes searching her face.

"Why does it matter, Stephen? Why put a label on yourself? Just be you. Be true to yourself. Whatever happens, I love you," She kissed his cheek, "Have you…you know…like you do with me?"

"Not yet. I think that's some of the problem as well," he murmured, "Can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Stephen."

"You won't tell anyone, Betty?" he pleaded, his eyes glistening, "I don't think I could bear Lucas' jokes. He can be quite sophomoric sometimes."

"I never told anyone about _us_, why would I tell about you and Lionel? That's not my place. What about Olivia?"

"I'm going to go back to the house right now and tell her I'm leaving her. After fourteen years of marriage, I am finally in love!" he tittered.

"If you need a place to stay tonight, my sofa is always open for you, love," she patted his arm gently.

"Thank you, Betty," he said quietly and kissed her cheek.

"Just do me one favor, Stephen?"

"Anything."

"Please don't start walking round the department like Mr. Humphries does. You know, with that walk of his. And please don't trill or have those mannerisms. I can only handle one effeminate man in the department!"

His face lit up and he laughed heartily, his eyes danced, "I don't think there's much danger in that!"

"When things get settled down, you'll have to bring Lionel round to meet me," Betty smiled, "He must really be something for you to get so gutted!"

"He is, Betty!" Stephen gushed, "He _is_!"

"You'll come round and let me do your hands and nails from time to time, won't you?" she asked hopefully, "And trim your moustache?"

"Yes," he nodded and grinned widely.

"Here, let me give you a jar of my homemade hand salve. You're an elegant man, Stephen; I can't have you letting your hands get rough."

She retrieved the jar from the cupboard in the downstairs loo and handed it to him.

"Thank you, Betty. Really."

* * *

Stephen arrived home from Betty's. Olivia was sitting in the lounge waiting for him, stewing..

"Stephen Peacock, where have you been?" she asked agitatedly, her face pinched, "It's nearly nine o'clock!"

"Sit down, Livvie." His voice was soft yet purposeful.

"I don't want to sit down! Dinner was two hours ago; where've you been?" she demanded.

He took her hands and led her to the settee. They sat down, his grey eyes dark and serious. His heart beat so wild and erratic, he felt light-headed.

Feeling it best to cut to the chase, Stephen took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, Livvie. I'm leaving you. I wasn't at a sales meeting tonight."

Olivia's eyes narrowed, "It's _her_ from the Ladies' Department, isn't it? I've known for months, but I didn't say anything," she snapped.

"It's not her; it's me. I can't go on like this. I'm sorry." He squeezed her hands and his eyes welled.

"If it's sex you want, I'll let you make love to me as often as you'd like. I can be more intimate, Stephen, really I can," she pleaded.

"Livvie, please. Don't." His heart constricted at her pleas. He swallowed the rock hard lump that had formed in his throat.

"I love you, Stephen!"

He stared back at her blankly.

"Didn't you hear me? I love you. Don't you love me?" she begged.

"Truth be told, Livvie, I haven't loved you in quite some time. I'm sorry," he said barely above a whisper.

"I can forgive whatever indiscretions you've committed. We'll work this out; we always do," she bubbled optimistically, her eyes wild and searching.

_You'd never understand this latest infidelity; I'm not sure I do myself _he thought.

"It's not that simple, Livvie! I've got to go. I'm sorry," he said, feeling strangled.

He stood up and strode to the staircase, leaving her sitting on the settee sobbing as he ascended.

He returned with an armload of suits and a suitcase.

"I'll be back for the rest of my things in a day or two," he informed her.

"Don't bother," she hissed, "Whatever you leave here will be taken to the charity shop! If you don't want me, then I don't want your things in my house. And remember, Stephen, it is _my_ house! Get out! _GET OUT_!" she shrieked, tears flowing down her cheeks and smearing her mascara.

"I'm sorry, Livvie!" he whispered as he left. It was like a broken record, his 'I'm sorry's'.

Stephen slid into the driver's seat of his car, cranked the engine, and drove off slowly.

_Get flowers _he reminded himself.

* * *

Soon he was standing before the door to Lionel's flat, a dozen red roses in hand, his stomach wrenching and doing flip-flops. He rapped on the door and waited. Silence. His heart sank and he knocked again. This time he heard footsteps from within. The latch clicked and the door cracked open. Stephen stood there humbled and repentant, one bright blue eye staring back at him through the space between the door and jamb.

"What do you want, Stephen?" Lionel retorted.

"I want you back. I'm sorry Lionel," he implored, "I _do_ love you, I just couldn't admit that to myself. I didn't know what I had 'til it was gone. I don't want to see other people."

Silence. Stephen just stared at the eye from behind the door, his whole life a complete shambles, his emotions wracked. He bit his lower lip and his chin wrinkled; he closed his eyes to keep the tears welled inside. After what seemed like an eternity, Lionel opened the door wide.

"Come in," he acquiesced, "Take your coat off and sit down."

Stephen nodded and searched Lionel's face. He handed him the roses as if offering an olive branch.

"Flowers? For me?" Lionel quipped, "What? No chocolates?"

Stephen nodded, his eyes dark and his eyebrows upturned like a sad puppy.

"I meant what I said, Stephen. I won't share you," Lionel said firmly.

"You don't have to. I talked to Claybourne and he gave me a right dressing-down. Then I went to Betty's and broke it off with her."

"What'd she have to say?" he braced himself.

"She all but gave me her blessing," Stephen smiled.

"Really?" Lionel's eyebrows shot up, "You'll have to introduce me to this lady."

"Betty really is a lady from the ground up. Then I went back to the house and told Livvie that I'm leaving her."

"How'd she take it?"

The air hung heavy with tension. Stephen's heart beat wildly and he took a deep breath.

"Awful. It was just awful," Stephen shook his head slowly, "I felt like a first class heel. But I also feel liberated."

"Did you tell her _why _you're leaving?" Lionel pressed.

"I just told her that I couldn't do it anymore," Stephen choked back the tears he felt welling up again.

"But you didn't tell her about us?"

He swallowed hard and shook his head, "What was I to say? 'I'm leaving you for another man'?" he chuckled at the absurdity of it, "It was difficult as it is without telling her the details. I didn't see the need to add any more to the hurt I already caused."

"That's why I love you, Stephen. You're sensitive and compassionate," he said softly.

"No, I'm not. I'm a filthy swine."

Lionel sat down next to him and took Stephen's hands in his. Stephen leaned in and sought Lionel's mouth with his.

"I'm proud of you," Lionel whispered.

"I wish I could be proud of me. I made a huge cock-up of everything," his shoulders slumped.

Lionel wrapped his arms round Stephen and comforted him, but couldn't help feeling a twinge of elation.

_I won! I won! He's mine! He's mine!_ A little voice in Lionel's head chanted singsong.


	11. A Very Happy Birthday For Stephen

**A Very Happy Birthday for Stephen**

Stephen's 53rd birthday.

Lionel hatched a plan for a surprise party; small dinner party, just a few friends- Claybourne, Roger, Betty, and Ethel Axelby.

Lionel rearranged his schedule so he could work a half-day and set up for the party. In order to give his friends time to arrive, Lionel called Stephen at work and asked him to run a few errands. Lionel decorated the dining room with fresh-cut flowers, balloons, and a banner spelling out HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

"Welcome, Betty!" Lionel greeted her, kissing her cheek.

Betty wore her Grace Brothers uniform and her hair was a bright blue color, "I hope you don't mind, I came right from work!" she apologized.

"You look fine, love!" Lionel assured her.

"This is my friend Mrs. Ethel Axelby," Betty introduced her.

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Axelby!" Lionel welcomed, "What can I get you ladies to drink?"

"Gin and tonic, but not too much tonic…and not too much lemon!" Betty replied.

Lionel chuckled and mixed the drink, "And for you, Ethel?"

"I'll have the same…make it easy for you!"

Claybourne and Roger entered, carrying a bottle of wine and a gift-wrapped package.

They all took their places, hiding behind the sofa and waited.

Stephen arrived home and the crew jumped up and yelled "SURPRISE!"

"How unexpected!" Stephen bubbled and his flint-grey eyes lit up.

* * *

They sat down to dinner; Lionel prepared a sumptuous roast beef and mashed potatoes, carrots and Yorkshires. Claybourne's baker friend made a lovely birthday cake decorated with Regimental tie stripes. Betty put together a trifle.

After dinner: coffee and desert...and presents!

Lionel handed Stephen a birthday card. Stephen opened the card and read it aloud:

" '_It is not being in love that makes me happy but it is being in love with YOU that makes me happy'_," Stephen smiled as he recited and his friends oohed and ahhed as two tickets for the London Philharmonic Orchestra fell out of the card. Stephen held up the tickets and goggled at Lionel.

He hugged him excitedly, "You _knew_ I wanted to go! How'd you get tickets? They've been sold out for _months_!" he squealed and kissed him.

Lionel explained how a customer with very odd measurements had come in for a suit to wear for a big presentation and the Tailoring and Alterations Department worked a miracle for the man. The presentation went off flawlessly, his suit looked magnificent, and in appreciation, he gave Lionel the tickets.

"Remember that customer I told you about? The one who was barrel-chested?"

"With the mismatched arms?" Stephen added.

"Yes, that's the one!"

The others tittered at the thought. Claybourne laughed at the thought of what Mr. Lucas would have said.

_I'll buy that suit, it'll go with my mismatched arms! Don't worry if the sleeves don't quite fit, your arms'll ride up with wear!_

"Well, he needed a suit to wear to a presentation at university," Lionel explained, "After taking his measurements and fitting him, we had to make rather extensive adjustments and the suit _still_ was not fitting him. The top would fit nicely, but then the midline would be tight. If we got the midline fitting, then the chest would be baggy. We took the entire suit apart and made it over for him. The suit looked a right treat when we were done and his presentation went off perfectly. In appreciation, he returned to the store and gave me the tickets."

Stephen pecked his mouth over and over, then pressed in for a passionate kiss, "Thank you, darling!"

Lionel's eyes slid shut and he smiled contentedly.

Claybourne and Roger gave Stephen a joke gift. He unwrapped it and his eyebrows shot up, glaring, "_HANDBAG_?!"

Claybourne calmly shook his head, "Not handbag, Stephen…_MAN-bag_!" he corrected.

The six friends looked round at each other then burst into raucous laughter.

"It's what's _inside_ what counts!" Roger stated.

Stephen reached into the imitation crocodile purse and pulled out the crumpled paper holding the bag's shape. He withdrew a folded leaf of paper: a gift certificate for a pedicure at Eau de Salon.

"A _pedicure_?" Stephen questioned, cocking his head.

"Oh, yes!" Claybourne grinned, "They use this thing what looks like a cheese grater to remove the calluses and rough spots from your feet, and then they slather foot-softening lotion all over your feet and massage them. They'll trim and shape your toenails. It's the ultimate indulgence! Almost as good as…well...you know..." he winked and licked his lips contemplatively.

Stephen stared at the paper for a moment, "Oh, why not!" he smiled coyly and his face went pink, "One gets a manicure. Thank you, gentlemen! Thank you."

Lionel flirtatiously arched an eyebrow at Stephen.

Betty handed Stephen a small black velvet jewelry box. He flipped open the lid, revealing a pair of cufflinks which matched his pinky ring. He grinned at her. Betty was on her third gin and tonic and was feeling quite saucy.

"I'd wondered whom you'd bought those for!" trilled Claybourne, casting a glance at Betty. She winked at Mr. Humphries.

Stephen smiled at her, "I fancied these when they came in and Mr. Grainger put them on that shirt," he said, "I had gone to coffee and when I got back, they were gone. Thank you, love!"

He turned to Mr. Humphries, "I asked _you_ about them and you said a customer bought them!"

"Well, a customer _did_ buy them!" he tittered.

Betty sauntered over to Stephen, "Here, birthday boy, let me give you a big birthday kiss!" and plopped into his lap.

She framed his face with her hands and delivered a deep kiss. Stephen's arms wound round her waist and he closed his eyes. He slowly opened and closed his mouth as he kissed her back.

After a moment, Lionel turned away and sulked. The others gaped in disbelief.

Roger nudged Claybourne, "Uh-oh," he whispered, nodding toward Lionel and his eyes shifted to Betty and Stephen.

Ethel sensed the tension and loudly cleared her throat; Stephen and Betty broke their lip-lock. Betty pressed her lips to Stephen's one final time and whispered, "Happy Birthday" in his ear.

"Thank you," he mouthed back, panting and smoothing his moustache.

"Well, what say we get this mess cleaned up?" Ethel suggested to Betty.

"This mess is going to take a _lot_ of cleaning up!" Claybourne muttered.

"I'll help you," Roger quickly offered and he and Claybourne took the plates to the kitchen.

"Come on, Betty, get the coffee cups!" Ethel ordered.

"This just isn't fair to my pussy! It's been cooped up all day!" Betty whinged, her voice trailing as she and Ethel went into the kitchen.

Lionel glowered at Stephen; Stephen just smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders, "What?"

Lionel goggled at him in silence and shook his head slowly.

After Roger and Claybourne cleared the table and Mrs. Axelby and Betty did the washing up, the friends gathered their coats and departed.

"Good night! We had a lovely time," Roger hugged Lionel. He turned to Stephen, "Happy Birthday, Stephen!"

"Thank you."

"Thank you for coming," Lionel thanked them.

"Good night, gentlemen!" Ethel pecked Lionel and Stephen on their cheeks, "Come on, Betty, I've got to get you home!"

Betty turned to Stephen, "Happy birthday, Stephen!"

"Thank you, Betty," he pecked her cheek chastely.

"Good night, Lionel!" Betty slurred.

"Good night, Betty," Lionel grumbled, avoiding her glance.

* * *

Later in bed….

Lionel had silently crawled into bed and faced away from Stephen. Stephen lay in the blue moonlight-bathed stillness of their bed; staring at the back of Lionel's head. He reached out and touched Lionel's shoulder. Abruptly Lionel pulled away and moved far from him and closer to his edge of the bed. Stephen moved in and enveloped him by wrapping his arms round him and curling a leg round his waist, playfully humping him.

"Stephen, no!" Lionel growled and attempted to pull away.

Stephen tightened his grip on him and kissed his back and neck softly.

"Don't!" he snapped and snatched away.

"Lionel, what's wrong?" Stephen asked completely unawares.

"Back off, Stephen!" he elbowed him sharply.

"Oof!" Stephen grunted, "What's gotten into you?" he asked softly.

Silence.

"You've been awfully quiet the rest of the evening," he touched him again, "Come on, darling, what's wrong? I don't want to go to sleep angry. My mother said never to go to sleep angry."

"Then maybe you should sleep with your mother!" Lionel growled.

"Now out with it, Lionel!" Stephen said frustratedly.

Lionel turned to face him, glaring, his blue eyes glistening, "You kissed her!" he cried.

"It's my birthday. It was a birthday kiss," Stephen said innocently.

"It was a _lover's_ kiss!" he retorted through clenched teeth.

"Well, we _used_ to be lovers."

"You _still_ love her!" Lionel accused.

Stephen protested, "Betty has been most supportive through all of this. She just had a bit too much to drink, that's all."

Lionel's nostrils flared, "You didn't try to stop her," he huffed, "If I weren't here right now, you'd be making love to her!"

"Now wait a minute! She's _not_ here! I'm with _you_! I love _you_! It was a kiss, nothing more," he wrapped his arms round Lionel and tried to reassure him.

Lionel stiffened and his eyes locked on Stephen's, "Seeing you and her engaged in that kiss, I thought it might have easily gone further. You looked like you were quite enjoying it."

"I'm sorry, Lionel, if it looked like more than a birthday kiss. That was the only way I took it. Nothing more," Stephen insisted, "I didn't want to give the impression that I was repulsed by her; she really is a dear soul and I _do_ love her, just not like _that_ any more. I was in a frivolous mood; I've never had a birthday party as an adult. I'm sorry I got carried away. Please forgive me," his slate grey eyes pleaded.

He pressed his lips to Lionel's chin.

"I'm sorry I got so jealous. I was imagining that was what it was like when you were with her, when you were lovers," Lionel admitted, his voice cracking.

"Let's not fight!" Stephen crooned, "I don't want to fight."

Lionel pulled him close and crushed his mouth on Stephen's. Their kiss deepened as Stephen's hands ran along Lionel's back and over his bare backside. Stephen's tongue sought Lionel's and he gently open and closed his mouth. Lionel softly moaned and ran his fingers through Stephen's hair as Stephen pressed his hips urgently against him. The lovers' lips parted, breathless, their bodies pressing against ardently each other. Lionel planted wet kisses on Stephen's neck, driving him wild and impatiently tugged at the buttons of Stephen's pyjama top.

"Do you always have to wear so many clothes to bed?" Lionel complained.

"They're pyjamas," Stephen shrugged.

"I know what they are! But they're constricting. You should try sleeping in your birthday suit. It's so liberating!"

Stephen peeled his pyjama bottoms down and wriggled out of them, then slid out of his pyjama top.

"Well, it _is_ my birthday for another hour and twenty minutes," Stephen said in his sexy Royal Signals voice, "Make love to me."

"Now I'm beginning to think _you've_ had too much to drink!" Lionel chuckled, "You sure about this? In about a week you'll be a free man. I can wait," Lionel whispered breathily, his arms snugly wrapped round Stephen, rubbing himself against his thigh.

"Yes. Quite sure. I love you and I want you; I don't want to wait," Stephen murmured and turned in Lionel's embrace and touched his face.

"Ooh, that was sexy! Say it again in that Royal Signals voice of yours," he coaxed, gently rubbing Stephen's hard nipples.

"I love you and I want you," he cooed and shuddered in delight.

"Say it like they do in the dirty movies!" Lionel growled, pressing himself against him insistently.

"I refuse to speak like that!" Stephen protested, pressing back flirtatiously.

"Come on, just this once," he said running his hands over Stephen's bum, "Oh, you have such a _nice_ arse," he moaned.

"Get on with it before I change my mind!" Stephen teased.

"Well, it's not exactly Shakespeare…"

Lionel wedged his knee between Stephen's thighs and began kissing his shoulders and neck, eliciting a low moan. He pressed his hips against his lover's.

"Oh, wait a minute," Stephen said, leaning to the edge of the bed and reaching into his bedside table, retrieved a jar of Vaseline, and handed it to Lionel, "I picked this up at the chemist's counter."

"A little old fashioned, wouldn't you say?" Lionel teased.

"My first time, we used Pond's cold cream!" he stated.

"Yikes!"

"I didn't know what to get that wouldn't rouse suspicion. The other items were labeled 'Willy Wax', 'Ramrod', 'Motion Lotion', and 'Joy Jelly'," Stephen confessed, slightly embarrassed.

"What chemist did you go to?" he laughed, kissing Stephen's back.

"I couldn't very well go to the one at Grace Brothers," he explained.

"No, I suppose not. Any road, the lubricated johnny's work very well. I usually only use _that_ stuff to soften my hands between manicures."

"I saw all those packages of johnny's, but there were so many to choose from, I got overwhelmed. So I just grabbed this and left."

Lionel set the jar on the bedside table, opened the drawer, and removed several gold foil packets.

"Oh. I don't want you to wear one of those things!" Stephen averred, "I want you bare. And I want to see you when you make love to me."

Lionel's breath hitched and he embraced Stephen tightly, "I'm not going to be able to do it dry. Hand me that jar!"

He planted warm, wet kisses and love bites on Stephen's chest and shoulders and Lionel's erection pressed urgently against him. He rolled Stephen under him and Stephen wrapped his legs round Lionel's waist. Lionel positioned himself up on his knees, pulling Stephen close. Stephen's whole body tensed and he grunted as Lionel entered him, gently gripping Stephen's hips tightly and pushing forward. Stephen's breath hitched, his teeth clenched, and he slammed his eyes shut tight, wincing. He let out a soft moan and trembled. His heart danced. Lionel paused to allow Stephen to catch his breath and get used to the feeling of Lionel inside him. He didn't want their first time to be painful and unpleasant.

"Oh, that's lovely!" purred Lionel, "you alright?"

He nodded and moaned louder, running his hand up and down Lionel's sides. Stephen's eyes slowly fluttered opened as he relaxed. It didn't hurt! Not like the first time with Claybourne, not like when he was tensed and terrified Olivia would walk in on them. Witness their dirty deed. Discover Stephen's dirty little secret. It felt so good Stephen wanted to let his head loll back, but he didn't want to miss a second. He wanted to watch Lionel making love to him. His whole lower body buzzed. The great expanse of forehead beaded with sweat. He held steady to Lionel's arms, watching his flat stomach roll, staring at his navel, the dark trail of hair leading down.

Lionel laced his fingers with Stephen's and pinned his hands down. He worked himself in and out ardently; the bed creaking with each thrust. Stephen's head swam, passion swirling within him, savoring the sensations as his lover slowly delivered stroke after delicious stroke. Stephen groaned, his toes curled, his thighs trembled, and his heart drummed wildly in his chest as he felt his climax churning inside him. He writhed against Lionel and began to moan and shudder as he rhythmically drove deeper. Lionel murmured Stephen's name over and over in his ear. Stephen yowled and bucked against him, thighs quaking, a warm surge erupting between them. Lionel could feel his own heart thumping in his ears as he held Stephen tightly and finished him. Both men trembled as their passion reached its apex and release washed over them simultaneously, breathing erratically and heaving, their bodies damp with sweat.

They lay entwined, spent, both men sweating and their breath labored. Lionel kissed Stephen's neck and pressed against him. Stephen smiled against Lionel's warm, glistening chest.

"Mmmm, that was the _best_ bit of make up sex I've had in a while!" Lionel exhaled and kissed Stephen's forehead, "I love you. Happy Birthday."

"Oh, yes, that was wonderful, love," Stephen managed between breaths.

Their eyes locked and they lay entangled in each other's arms until slumber claimed them.


	12. Out Takes

**Out Takes**

The telephone rang in the Mens' department.

Mr. Humphries answered it and disguising his voice in a false baritone, bellowed, "Menswear!"

"Mr. Humphries, Mr. Rumbold here."

"How are you, Mr. Rumbold?"

"I'm alright. Would you please inform Captain Peacock that I wish to see him in my office immediately."

"Yes, sir," Mr. Humphries said as he hung up.

"Captain Peacock!" he trilled, "Are you free?"

Captain Peacock looked left then looked right, "Yes. I'm free, Mr. Humphries."

"Mr. Rumbold wishes to speak to you in his office," Mr. Humphries informed him.

"Very well," Captain Peacock replied, "Mr. Grainger, are you free?"

Mr. Grainger looked up from pricing socks, "Oh, yes, Captain Peacock, quite free!"

"Would you mind taking over for me? Mr. Rumbold wishes to see me in his office," Captain Peacock explained.

"Yes, Captain Peacock. It would be an honor!" Mr. Grainger perked up and assumed his position as floorwalker.

"Captain Peacock," Mr. Rumbold admonished, "Am I to understand that you've been recommending Grace Brothers' customers to another firm?"

"No, sir. Not exactly," Captain Peacock averred.

"You can't send Grace Brothers' customers to Austin Reed!"

"I'm not, sir," Stephen answered defensively.

"Well, when a customer asks where you got your suit, you have to refer them to our Gentlemen's Department," Mr. Rumbold stressed.

"We don't sell the suits I wear in our Gentleman's Department. I won't have my staff lie to the customer and tell them the suit is out of stock and try to shift one of our suits," Captain Peacock stood his ground.

"That's _exactly_ what you're to do if you value your position here at Grace Brothers!" Mr. Rumbold warned.

_That's more than my job's worth! _Stephen said to himself, rolling his eyes and squaring his jaw.

"Also, there's been some talk going on about you and Mrs. Slocombe. Your wife has called inquiring about you as well," Mr. Rumbold insinuated.

"It's all _talk_. There's nothing unprofessional between Mrs. Slocombe and myself," Stephen bristled, "My wife and I are legally separated pending the divorce. I'm staying with a friend. _Male_ friend. Is that all?"

"Yes. That is all," Mr. Rumbold said firmly.

Stephen turned on his heels and departed, "Pompous arse!" he muttered under his breath.


	13. The Tesco Fiasco

**The Tesco Fiasco**

"Come on!" Lionel called impatiently.

Stephen checked his look in the mirror for what seemed like the twentieth time. He was smartly attired in a dark suit, starched white shirt with Regimental tie. It was an impeccably tailored suit, with creased trousers accentuating his long, lean legs. A quick pass with a brush over his shoes and he was white-glove inspection ready. Lionel wore a similar dark suit, highly polished shoes, smartly pressed shirt and burgundy tie.

"You look fine," he insisted, "It's just Tesco's."

"I know," Stephen sighed, "But it's the first time since the divorce that we've been out in public together and not going to a dinner party. I'm a little self conscious, that's all."

He could feel the butterflies flitting about in his belly and his palms began to sweat.

"You look wonderful. Lovely, even," Lionel insisted, giving him a small peck on the cheek, "Let's go before they close."

"Maybe we should go tomorrow," he suggested.

"Tomorrow's Sunday. They're shut! Come on; it'll be fine," Lionel reassured him.

* * *

Working as a team, Lionel pushed the trolley and Stephen checked off the items on their list.

He picked up a bottle of honey and presented it to Lionel, "I think I fancy a bit of this!"

Lionel muttered, "Naughty boy!" and Stephen grinned mischievously as he set the honey in their buggy.

"We need flour and potatoes," Stephen pointed out, "I used the last of them last night in the potato pie for dinner."

Olivia recognized that low velvety baritone voice. She smoothed her dress and followed the sound to the end of the aisle and watched as her ex-husband handed items to the man she recognized from bridge club. She could feel her blood boil as she listened to their playful, flirtatious banter and saw the bliss in Stephen's face. His handsome smile was for someone else now. A man. Her hand flew to her mouth as the sickening realization descended upon her: they weren't just two roommates out doing a little food shopping; they were…_lovers. _Her stomach roiled and she was flooded with nausea at the overwhelming feeling of betrayal and deception.

She saw only red as her rage seethed. Turning quickly, she dashed back down the aisle, the front wheel of her trolley waggling, and turned so that she could confront them head on.

Stephen traced a finger along Lionel's hand, "Do you fancy these biscuits?" he asked holding up a carton.

"Peek Freans? No. I prefer those butter ones we had at Betty's. They're in the blue tin there," he said, pointing.

Stephen set the carton back on the shelf, reached for a tin of butter thins, and set them in the trolley. He crossed through 'biscuits' on his list.

His eyes danced as he smiled at Lionel, "I didn't know grocery shopping could be so much fun," he joked.

Stephen's smile evaporated as he looked up and he found himself face to face with Olivia. His breath caught in his throat and he gaped at her.

"Oh…I see!" she stammered wild-eyed and slapped Stephen's face open-handed first, then backhanded.

"Have you gone mad?" he growled, reeling in shock, putting his hand to his stinging cheek, "What's gotten into you, Livvie?"

"Is _this_ who you left me for?" she screamed, "_Him_? Is this _L_?"

"L?" Stephen looked at her quizzically.

"Don't prevaricate with me, Stephen Peacock! The weekend I visited my sister, her children came down with the chicken pox and I had to leave early. I got home and you were still at work. I found a note on the kitchen worktop from _L, _saying she…or _he_ would be back soon. Love, L."

"I remember now..." Stephen recalled. He swallowed hard.

"When I came back from my walk, there was a cab in the driveway," Lionel explained, "I knew it would be her coming back early. So after the cab left the house, I hailed it and went home."

"You came in from work with flowers. You never brought _me_ flowers. You chirped '_Honey, I'm home_!' when you came through the door. I thought it was odd; I thought you were happy to see me. But you couldn't have known I'd be home…when I confronted you, you joked that the flowers were for Lionel. Only, you weren't joking, were you? You said he'd had too much to drink and slept it off in the lounge."

Stephen's face flushed hot at her account.

Other customers in the aisle turned and gawked. Lionel winced and watched helplessly as the man he loved was called out. He knew enough not to say a word and maybe Olivia would simmer down and leave them in peace. Joining the fray would only escalate the situation.

"He didn't slept on our settee, did he, Stephen?" her voice cracked, "_Did he?_ You had him in our _bed!_ How could you?"

Her eyes blazed and her chin quivered.

"Let's not make a scene, Livvie. Not here. Please!" Stephen attempted to placate her and looking around nervously.

"Oh, I'm going to make a scene all right, Stephen, you can put money on it! I'm going to tell all of our friends at bridge club!" she snarled, her hazel eyes angry slits.

"They were never _my _friends. They were _your _friends. I only entertained them," he countered, his chest heaving.

"I see how you _entertained_ them, this one at least! I thought it was strange how he used to come by himself and didn't have a bridge partner. I guess that problem's solved now, isn't it? How could you? I've a good mind to ring Mr. Rumbold and have you sacked!" she spat.

"Since I'm paying you maintenance, _that_ would be ill-advised," he murmured and narrowed his dark eyes.

"When we went on holiday to the Isle of Levant, were you looking at the women…or the _men_, Stephen?"

He stood there stoically as the hurled this last stinging insult at him.

"Make sure you pick up some faerie cakes!" her voice trailed as she stormed off.

Lionel reached behind and patted Stephen's bum.

Stephen recoiled, "W-W-What'd you do that for?" he sputtered.

"Because I knew she'd look!"

"That wasn't wise," Stephen panicked.

"She can't hurt you now. It's finalized. And it's not like we were walking down the aisle with my tongue in your mouth!"

" 'Come on; It'll be fine'," Stephen scoffed, "Famous last words."

Lionel squeezed his hand gently, "Don't let her get up your nose. She's gone. We'll go home and have a nice cup of tea."

Stephen was trembling with anger, "I guess you're right," he pursed his lips and exhaled slowly through his nose, "I'm just being over-sensitive. It's not like I'm wearing that short black skirt, stilettos and stockings outfit I wore to Larry's fancy dress do!" he chuckled nervously.

"Oh, that was a picture! You looked so tacky it hurt!" he exclaimed, "But your legs in those stockings and heels were a knock out! D'you think you might slip those on for me when we get home?"

Stephen sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. They both broke out laughing like two schoolboys.

"What's next on the list?" Lionel questioned.

"Tea and sugar," he replied as they walked down the aisle.


	14. Do You Take This man?

_A/N: OK, you know it would not be a true Joi Forber Fic without a wedding! So enjoy. Raise a glass. Throw some rice or blow bubbles. _

**Do You Take This Man?**

"Mr. Humphries, are you free?"

"I'm free!"

"May I have a word with you?" Captain Peacock asked, his face serious and sullen.

"Yes, Captain Peacock?"

He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially to his junior, "I want to marry Lionel."

"Oh, Our Ada!" Claybourne put his palm to his forehead, "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," he nodded.

"You can't. You know it's not legal. And it's not safe."

He hated to burst Stephen's bubble, but he felt the need to protect his friend and supervisor. Stephen had fallen arse over teakettle in love with Lionel, but he was still a little _naïve_.

Stephen looked at him sadly.

"It's only been six months!" he chirped, "You're not used to living with someone to whom you are not married, are you?"

Stephen shook his head, "It's not just that. I want to show him I'm committed. Really committed."

"Shh…shh…If anyone were to hear you talking like that, they'd have you committed!" he warned.

Stephen nodded, point taken. His heart constricted thinking how little he understood his new life.

* * *

A few days later:

"Captain Peacock," Mr. Humphries trilled, "are you free?"

Captain Peacock looked around nonchalantly and then back to his junior, "At the moment, Mr. Humphries."

"About that inquiry you made the other day…" he started.

"What inquiry?" Captain Peacock asked.

He pointed to his ring finger.

Captain Peacock raised his eyebrows and nodded his acknowledgement, "Yes?"

"I have some good news! A friend of mine rang and he will be here in a few weeks, visiting from America!" Mr. Humphries bubbled.

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Well, it just so happens that he is a minister at one of those all-night wedding chapels in Las Vegas. He'll only be in town a few days touring Canterbury. He says he can perform the ceremony, if you're still interested. He wanted me to tell you: it won't be legally recognized by the C of E or any magistrate or vicar and the certificate will be from America, but if you just want to exchange rings and vows and have a ceremony, you can have that."

Captain Peacock's face lit up and he gasped, "Oh, I could just kiss you!"

"I'm taken," he answered coyly.

* * *

Stephen and Lionel sat cuddled on the settee watching an old movie; Stephen gently tousled his hair. The lounge was bathed in the pale blue flickering light of the telly.

"Lionel," Stephen turned to him, his face serious, "I want to marry you."

"We can't," he sighed, reaching for his lover's hand that was lovingly caressing him, "It's not legal. I've already checked in to it."

"We can!" he smiled, gushing, "Clay has a friend who will be in town a few days. He's a minister from Las Vegas in America. He can perform the ceremony for us. It won't be a legal wedding, but it's the best we can do for now!" Stephen took Lionel's hands in his, "Lionel, marry me?"

"I wanted to ask _you_!" he protested, smiling.

"I'm older!" Stephen smiled wistfully.

Lionel threw his arms round Stephen and kissed his forehead before planting an open-mouthed kiss on his lips, "Yes!"

* * *

A few days later…

Captain Peacock held an after-hours meeting. Mr. Rumbold and Mr. Grainger were absent. Captain Peacock told the staff he needed to speak to them about their sales slips and commission chits and that Mr. Grainger and Mr. Rumbold need not be present at this meeting.

Captain Peacock passed round hand-written invitations to his and Lionel's "wedding" ceremony to be held at their flat.

The meeting closed and Captain Peacock walked over to close out the till in the Gents' Department.

"Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs!" Lucas cried when he received the hand-written invitation, "It just goes to show, you think you know someone!"

Miss Brahms shot a look across the department to Captain Peacock then to Mr. Humphries, "'Ere! 'E's jus' like 'im now? Is it catching?" she asked Mrs. Slocombe.

"That'll do, Miss Brahms!" Mrs. Slocombe scolded.

"Well, _I'm_ not goin', I can tell ya that!" she said, pointing angrily at the slip of paper, "Who knows what that lot'll get up to!"

"Miss Brahms, Captain Peacock has invited us at great risk. He considers us his friends by confiding in us. We should show our support."

"_Support? _You support _this? _For a while there, it was you and 'im. You mean to tell me you're not the least bit miffed?"

"I _was_ cross at first. However, he loves Lionel. All in all, I just want him to be happy."

"Oh, 'e's _'appy, _all right!" she snapped sarcastically.

"Don't be cheeky, Miss Brahms. If can't say anything nice then belt up about it!" Mrs. Slocombe glowered and admonished her junior.

Miss Brahms sulked, "I haven't forgotten the way 'is 'ands were all over me after the Christmas party!"

"That'll do, Miss Brahms," Mrs. Slocombe hissed, "Get a brush and sweep out the fitting rooms; they're very mucky."

* * *

A small, intimate gathering assembled. The event was held at Lionel and Stephen's flat.

Mr. Humphries and Roger stood for their friends; two Best Men, as it were.

"You got an American vicar to do this, I see!" Mr. Lucas shook his head, "No C of E vicar would play ball!"

Stephen and Lionel wore matching dark suits and bowties. Claybourne and Roger also wore matching suits that complemented the grooms' suits.

Betty stood in the bedroom straightening Stephen's bowtie and touched his carnation. Bittersweet.

"I always hoped _we_ would have a day like this," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Betty," he said, looking down.

"Don't apologize. You look very smart…and happy," she hugged him tightly, "Congratulations, Stephen."

"Thank you, Betty," he sighed and beamed, "I am happy."

"How did you, you know…_know_? Are ya sure?" she asked.

"I was 40 when I married Olivia. I guess I was in denial. I went to the Regimental Reunion Ball and it seemed that everyone I served in the Army with was married. I felt somehow inferior," he reminisced, "There were some ladies there who'd served with ENSA and I met Olivia. A few months later, we were married. I didn't really love her, just something to tick off a list. This time around I want to get married for love."

She hugged him, "Good on you! I don't fully understand, but I'm behind you, Stephen."

"Thank you, Betty,"

Claybourne tapped the doorframe, "Look sharp! We're ready!"

Captain Peacock and Mrs. Slocombe made their way to the lounge.

Stephen and Lionel joined hands.

"You look wonderful!" Stephen whispered, craning his head round back for a full view.

Lionel eyed him up and down, "You too!"

"I've got this friend who is head of Tailoring and Alterations at Austin Reed," Stephen smiled, "He's a miracle worker! He once made Humpty Dumpty look like Robert Redford!"

"You should marry him!" Lionel pursed his lips flirtatiously.

"I'm going to!" Stephen swelled.

Their playful little banter was interrupted by the minister clearing his throat.

The minister, David, addressed the guests, "Thank you all for coming today. We're gathered here today to celebrate Stephen and Lionel's love for each other. They have made a commitment and would like to make that public and to share their decision with you, their closest friends."

Lionel looked at David then looked at the faces of those lining the walls of the lounge and back to his beloved. Stephen smiled at his co-workers and then turned his gaze back to Lionel.

"Lionel and Stephen have prepared their own vows and when they're ready will say them aloud and exchange rings. Stephen, you may pledge your vows to Lionel."

Stephen removed a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket and, taking a deep breath, looked at Betty who nodded encouragingly.

He checked hi note, cleared his throat, and locked eyes with Lionel, "_Lionel, because I love you, I promise to treat you the way you want to be treated, and give you the respect you deserve. I promise to maintain your trust with my words and actions. I promise to always be your partner in crime and adventure, your lover, your co-pilot, and your friend. _You are everything I need, and at this moment, I know that all of my dreams have come true. _I will pay attention and give you time. I will listen, both to what you say, and to what you don't say. I promise to always share what's in my heart, even if I am afraid. I will strive to be my best self for you," and taking another breath, added, "And if you live _to be a hundred, I want to _live _to be a hundred minus one day so I would never have to _live _a day without _you__._"

"Stephen and Lionel have decided to reuse their old wedding rings. Their friend, Claybourne Humphries, took the rings to a jeweler friend and had the following inscription engraved in the rings: '_I am my beloved's_, and my beloved is mine'. Each ring has one part of the verse, which is from the Song of Solomon."

The gathering sighed.

David nodded to Stephen, "Stephen, you may place the ring on Lionel's hand."

Stephen turned to Claybourne who handed him Lionel's gold band. Stephen slid the ring onto Lionel's finger. Tears rolled down Stephen's cheeks as he finished. Lionel squeezed his hands reassuringly and mouthed, "I love you, Stephen."

Claybourne's lower lip trembled and he sobbed into his handkerchief. Roger reached over and gently hugged his shoulder to console him.

Lionel blinked at the tears welling in his own eyes, sighed and took a breath, then began, "I, Lionel, take you, Stephen, to be my partner in life and my one true love, loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know. I promise to love you unconditionally. I eagerly anticipate the chance to grow together, getting to know the man you will become, and falling in love a little more every day. I promise to love and cherish you through whatever life may bring us. With every beat of my heart, I will love you."

"Lionel, you may place the ring on Stephen's hand," David instructed.

Lionel turned to Roger. Roger placed Stephen's ring in Lionel's palm. Lionel slipped the ring on Stephen's finger and exhaled. His face lit up as his eyes met Stephen's.

David smiled at them and added, "From henceforth, may there shall be such a oneness that _when one cries_the _other_will _taste salt__._ You may kiss."

Betty dabbed her moist eyes, her lower lip trembling.

Stephen leaned in and Lionel pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Oh, give over!" Mr. Lucas exclaimed, egging them on "Come on, give him a _real_ smooch!"

Betty glared at Mr. Lucas as Lionel dipped Stephen in a searing kiss. Everyone clapped.

Mr. Lucas came up alongside Mrs. Slocombe, "Where is Shirley anyway? I thought she'd be here," he whispered.

"Shh…keep your voice down," she muttered, "She couldn't bear to watch Captain Peacock get married to Lionel. Not after the way he groped her when he gave her a lift home after the Christmas party," Betty explained, "It was just too much for her."

Mr. Lucas nodded, "It's almost a bit too much for me. How do you cope? It was obvious what was going on between you two."

She hefted a half bottle of champagne and nodded, "I'm coping. In me own way."

_Shirley _should_ have been here_ Betty thought to herself.

"Captain Peacock, are you going to toss your carnation? I think perhaps Clay and Roger might be next!" Mr. Lucas joked.

Mr. Humphries narrowed his eyes at his wisecracking friend. Stephen pursed his lips and furrowed his brows disapprovingly.

The guests all took a flute of champagne from the tray and raised their glasses. Betty procured another entire bottle for herself.

"I propose a toast!" Claybourne announced.

"Here! Here!" Betty raised the bottle and took a large swig from it.

"Not yet, Mrs. Slocombe!" Mr. Lucas whispered.

"Oh!" she smiled sheepishly.

"To my friend and co-worker, Stephen Peacock, and to his partner, Lionel St. James: May you always enjoy each other's company and always have time to have a nice cup of tea."

He took a small sip from the glass.

"Here! Here!" the guests toasted. Betty took a gulp from her bottle.

"To Stephen and Lionel... May you grow to be two old queens!" Roger added.

"Here! Here!" the guests laughed.

Mr. Lucas held his glass aloft, "Sooner them than me!"

The guests all shot a look at him.

"Mazel tov!" he quickly blurted as he gulped his drink.

"Here! Here!" they echoed.

"Here! Here!" said Betty a few seconds later and chugged from the bottle.

After the couple had been toasted, Stephen and Lionel mingled with their guests.

"Captain Peacock," Mr. Lucas said as he nibbled on a bit of a sandwich, "if I didn't see it with my own eyes, I never would have believed it. You're the last person I would have thought…"

"Well, Mr. Lucas, I couldn't very well go on living in sin, now could I?" Stephen smiled mischievously at him.

Mr. Lucas' eyebrows shot up and he shook his head, "No, Captain Peacock, I don't suppose you could!"

Betty sat on the sofa crying and quite drunk.

Stephen ushered her into the bedroom to console her. Sitting next to her on the bed, he took her hands in his.

"Shh…shh. It's alright, Betty," he whispered, pressing his lips to her pale blue hair.

"Was it something I did, Stephen?" she asked through her tears, "Or didn't did?"

"No. This is something I've known all along. I married Olivia when I was almost 40. I was a womanizer to try to hide it. But you've helped me to finally accept myself. Thank you," he said, leaning in and brushing his lips against her cheek.

"I've failed though," she hiccoughed.

"This wasn't a contest," he shook his head, "I've lied to everyone, including myself, for so many years. I finally feel free."

"You're not going to start wearing women's clothes are you?" she tilted her head.

"Not _that_ kind of free!" he chuckled and plucked the carnation from his buttonhole and handed it to her. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she looked at his hands.

She looked up at him, "You'll still come round?"

"Yes."

"Your hands look nice," she said softly.

"They should. _You_ did them! Lionel's hands look nice as well," he smiled.

He removed his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed her eyes, "Please don't cry, Betty. Here," he said offering her the cloth.

She noisily blew her nose and handed the handkerchief back to him. He tossed it into the laundry basket in the corner.

"I'm happy for you and Lionel, Stephen," she sobbed, "I really am."

"I know you are, my dear," he soothed, "Thank you…for everything."

Mr. Humphries tapped on the doorframe, "We're ready to cut the cake! You've taken off your pinky ring," he observed.

"Well, I couldn't go round like Liberace with a hand full of jewelry!"

Betty and Claybourne chuckled.

Stephen reached into his jacket pocket and took out his pinky ring and pressed it into Betty's palm, "Here, I want you to have this."

She looked down at the ring in her hand and tears splashed her palm.

She looked up at him and smiled through her tears, "You wore the cufflinks!"

"Something new…" he chimed, handing her a tissue from the box on the dresser.

"It was very brave what you've done today, Captain Peacock," Claybourne said and contemplated the gravity of it a moment, "I wish I could be as brave. Congratulations."

Stephen nodded and took Betty by the hands and led her back to the lounge.

The cake was a traditional wedding cake- round with baby blue-colored icing, hand drawn to look like lace.

Mr. Humphries' friend painstakingly custom-made the cake topper from two brown haired plastic grooms, one having a beard painted on. Using a heat gun, she repositioned the groom figurines' arms so that they could join hands.

"Fruit cake; how appropriate!" Mr. Lucas joked.

Mrs. Slocombe swatted his arm and he flinched.

"What'd I do?" he innocently asked.

"You're being incorrigible, Mr. Lucas!" she glowered, "and very disrespectful."

"I'm sorry!"

Stephen and Lionel each cut a small piece of cake. Stephen daintily placed a chunk of cake in Lionel's mouth. Lionel did likewise and kissed a bit of icing from Stephen's lip.

"So…whose name are you going to use?" Mr. Lucas questioned.

"We'll be using our _own_ names," Stephen answered.

"Yes. _Lionel Peacock_ would have sounded funny! Like Jonathan Livingston Seagull or Walter Pigeon!"

"Don't be facetious, Mr. Lucas!"

"I'm sorry, Captain Peacock, if I wasn't absolutely sure you'd be a good sport…" he mock-groveled, "Are you going on a…uh…"

"Honeymoon?" Stephen finished his sentence, "Yes."

"In a bridal suite?"

"No, Mr. Lucas. We're not trying to draw attention to ourselves," Captain Peacock explained, "Mr. Humphries has been so kind as to book us a room at a hotel he knows of in Brighton. It's only for the weekend; I'll be back to work Monday morning."

"Lionel isn't going to come storming into Grace Brothers the way Mrs. Peacock used to, is he?"

"No," Stephen said flatly, frowning.

Lionel came up alongside and slipped his hand in Stephen's.

"Can I ask you a question, Captain Peacock?"

Stephen nodded apprehensively, "Yes, I suppose so."

"Remember when Mrs. Slocombe's new flat had squatters and Young Mr. Grace allowed her to use the empty space on the fifth floor?"

"Yes," Stephen nodded, "What of it?"

"Remember we were stuck due to the transit strike and we shared a bed?"

"Yes."

"Were you…uh…arou-…um…attracted to me…in any way?" Mr. Lucas cautiously asked, wincing.

"No, Mr. Lucas. Not in the least," Stephen reassured him.

"Thank heaven for that! You're not going to start chatting up the fellows now are you?" he took a sip of his champagne.

"I'm married, Mr. Lucas."

"Never stopped you before!" he countered, smirking.

Stephen scowled at him, "I'm not attracted to every man I see!"

"Well, you used to be attracted to every _woman_ who came into the department!"

"Did you happen to notice, Mr. Lucas, that none of them ever reciprocated? Why do you think that was?"

"You were awful at flirting?"

Stephen chuckled and Lionel came up beside him, lacing his fingers with Stephen's.

"How did you arrive at _this?"_ he asked pointing from Stephen to Lionel.

"I fell in love," Stephen stated matter-of-factly; Lionel stole his arm round Stephen's waist possessively and smiled.

"With a man?"

"Yes," he said firmly, "With a man. One doesn't choose whom he falls in love with."

"Well, your suits look good," he quipped.

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas."

Mr. Humphries interrupted, "Stephen? Lionel? There are some gifts for you."

He handed Stephen a box wrapped in white paper with a red bow, "Oh," he chuckled and looked round tersely, "This is from Shirley Brahms!"

Mrs. Slocombe and Mr. Lucas gathered closer as Lionel tugged on the bow and tore the paper. The box contained several pillar candles and a small card, which simply read: "Happy Wedding. Miss Brahms."

"That one's from me," Mr. Lucas announced proudly as Stephen ripped the brown kraft paper from the gift.

Stephen gaped as he studied the cover of a book, "The Illustrated Kama Sutra," he said slowly.

"You may have to use your imagination on some of those, Captain Peacock!" Mr. Lucas blurted.

Stephen leafed through the pages and his eyebrows shot up and his eyes bugged, "I should say so!"

"Thank you, _Dick_!" Lionel replied, watching Stephen's face flush crimson as the other guests tittered.

Mr. Lucas winked.

"Ooh," Stephen cooed, "Betty's made us a bottle of massage lotion!" he uncorked the bottle and took a whiff, "She used elderflower."

"You sure it's not night shade?" Lionel quipped.

"You stop that!" Stephen playfully admonished, "She's quite fond of you!"

"She has a funny way of showing it. Every time she looks at me she scowls like I've stolen her boyfriend."

"You did!" Stephen muttered pointedly.

Lionel smiled and giggled, "Point taken."

* * *

Wedding Night 

Stephen stood leaning on the railing of the hotel balcony looking out into the thick darkness and listening to the roar of the ocean. He watched the lights of distant ships dancing on the horizon.

He felt Lionel's warm, familiar arms round him and soft kisses on the back of his neck. Lionel stood in his white silk boxers.

Stephen turned in his embrace, "You'll catch your death out here."

Lionel covered Stephen's mouth with his, "Happy?"

Stephen grinned and nodded, "You?"

"Very."

Lionel unbuttoned Stephen's shirt and placed wet, open-mouthed kisses on his chest. Kissing his way downward, he slid Stephen's braces down, pulled his shirttails out of his trousers, and kneeling, began kissing his belly.

Stephen let out a low groan, his fingers tightening their grip on the railing.

He pulled Lionel up to a standing position and their eyes locked; he leaned in for a smoldering kiss. Lionel pulled him close and they stood chest to chest, his hands draped on Stephen's hips. Stephen cradled Lionel's face in his hands, his fingertips caressing his beard, moustache prickling, his eyes slid closed.

Once more Lionel kissed his way down to a kneeling position and began fumbling with Stephen's fly, his fingers gently brushing the hair trailing from his belly to the patch of man hair.

Stephen pulled him up by his arms, "Not here. Someone might see!" he murmured.

"It's alright, we're married! No one will see us, we're behind the wall here," Lionel whispered breathily, "If anyone looks up they'll only see you from the chest up. I could take you right here, right now."

"What if someone goes out on their balcony? I'd prefer to be inside," Stephen fretted.

"If you insist! But leave the door open; I want to listen to the ocean," Lionel arched an eyebrow.

Stephen collected himself, took Lionel by the hands, and led him into the room. The dark burgundy duvet summoned them. The room was spartanly decorated; the dark curtains hung sharply. A double bed, a dresser, a wardrobe, a telly on a stand, telephone on the writing desk. Private balcony with a small bistro table and two chairs.

Stephen kicked his shoes off and slid his trousers down, then stepped out of them. They stood in their white silk boxers, a gift from Betty for their wedding night.

"We look a treat, don't we?" Lionel chuckled, staring at Stephen's bulge.

"She meant well!" he reasoned, trailing a finger along the wispy hair from Lionel's navel to his waistband.

"Nervous?" Lionel asked.

"A little. The last honeymoon I was on, I was almost 40. She came out wearing a white nightie…" Stephen laughed.

"I could go put on a white nightie if you'd like!" Lionel winked flirtatiously.

"Don't let's start that!"

Stephen stood before him, and as he knelt, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of Lionel's boxers and slid them down. He licked his lips in anticipation, looked up and blew Lionel a kiss. Stephen's lips parted, his tongue greeting Lionel's erection, and guided him in. Stephen ran his hands up Lionel's thighs and cupped his backside, sliding his mouth the length of him.

Lionel watched and gasped as Stephen fully took him in, "Mmmm...My favorite part- the initial entry," He huskily whispered as he cupped Stephen's head in his hands. Lionel's rapid breath became ragged, letting out a low moan as his thighs tensed and trembled and his hips moved forward and back. He pulled back, panting, and grabbing Stephen's arms, lifted him up.

"What's wrong?" Stephen gasped.

"I don't want to come yet. Lie down," Lionel urged, guiding Stephen to the bed.

Stephen rolled onto his back, lying supine, as Lionel knelt and positioned Stephen's legs on his shoulders. He kissed Stephen's calves and gently scratched his thighs. He rolled Stephen's hips and pressed urgently against him. Lionel watched as he eased himself inside his lover and both men moaned as they joined. Stephen wrapped his legs round Lionel's waist and Lionel leaned forward taking Stephen's nipple in his mouth and caressing it with his tongue and lips. Stephen arched his back and raked his fingers through Lionel's hair. He bucked and writhed wildly beneath Lionel's touch.

Lionel vigorously drove in and out then moved to the other nipple and delivered hot kisses and caresses. Lionel pressed his belly against Stephen's and thrusted rhythmically. Stephen trembled and whimpered, digging his fingertips into Lionel's back.

"I love how this drives you to distraction!" Lionel chortled, "I've never seen someone come so undone by having his nipples toyed with."

Stephen shivered and whimpered as Lionel took his nipple in his mouth again. Lionel eased himself out, straddled Stephen's hips, and rested his erection against his lover's.

"Let's let the ponies run and play together," Lionel smiled as he rubbed himself against him.

They pressed heatedly, grinding hips together, hands caressing back and shoulders. Gyrating wildly, hungrily kissing. Lionel nipped at Stephen's neck, moaning, fingers curled round his hair. They rubbed against each other feverishly, panting and gasping, hips moving in sync. Stephen ran his fingertips up and down Lionel's arms. Thrusting and grinding against each other. Moaning loudly. Stephen groaned, arching his back, and pressed against Lionel; climax washing over him. Lionel writhed, shuddering his release, his heart pounding, breath ragged.

They lay ensconced in each other's arms, their breath ebbed, and they delighted in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He softly kissed Stephen's shoulder; Stephen's eyes slid closed and he sighed contentedly. Lionel rested his head on Stephen's chest and listened to his heartbeat.

Lips caressing nipples.

Kissed his belly.

Stephen rolled Lionel under him. Lionel's hands on Stephen's backside.

** Stephen wrapped a leg round Lionel's hips

"Would it be alright if I had a crack at the birds who come into the department? Since Mr. Grainger and Mr. Humphries and now _you_ won't be interested."

"So long as you do it tastefully and discreetly and it doesn't interfere with your work. No launching notes," he smiled knowingly.

Lionel tittered.


	15. Quelle Surprise

**Quelle Surprise**

Stephen and Lionel enjoyed an unseasonably warm spring afternoon in their garden. A soft breeze stirred the newly budding trees and they shared a quiet cup of tea. Stephen sat with his long legs stretched out, sipping his tea, and reading the paper. Lionel was enjoying the copy of "The Illustrated Kama Sutra" given to them as a wedding gift from Mr. Lucas.

"Do you think there are many like…_us_?" Stephen asked, breaking the silence, "You know, professional men?"

"Remember Kenneth and Charles from Bridge Club?"

"_Them_?" Stephen asked, his eyebrows raised in shock, "Charles works for a building society and Kenneth…he works for the Council."

"Yes." Lionel answered pointedly, "They would nip out for a fag and go to either of their cars for a 'talk'."

"What do you mean?" his eyes wide in disbelief.

Lionel tilted his head suggestively, "They started out snogging. Then a little..." Lionel made a gesture with his hand.

"Unbelievable!" Stephen shook his head, trying to fathom his naïveté that these activities were going on under his nose, "But they stopped coming to bridge club several months before we started seeing each other."

"You know why, don't you?" he arched an eyebrow.

Stephen shook his head and shrugged.

"Well, one night, it was pouring with rain and they went to Charles' car; they both used to park their cars halfway between your house and the street so they wouldn't be seen. They were in the backseat and I guess they'd both had a bit too much to drink. It must have gotten rather heated and they went too far. Charles' wife went looking for him as the next round had started, she opened the car door only to discover her husband with his trousers down…literally…with a lap full of Kenneth!"

"Oh, dear God!" Stephen laughed incredulously, "How did you find out?"

"News travels in certain circles," Lionel said smugly, "When they came back in they both had that deer in the headlamps look about them. I'm surprised you never heard anything about it."

"No one ever mentioned it to me. All that was said was they had found another bridge club on a Tuesday night or something to that effect. Wow!" he shook his head, "Did you ever go out there with them?"

"They'd invited me on several occasions. I would never go because I thought they were both a couple of arrogant, toffee-nosed arseholes. I did, however, snog Travis in your upstairs loo."

"_Travis Kent?_ _Him? _He always seemed so…" Stephen's voice trailed off.

"_Straight?_ Aren't _they_ always the ones?" Lionel eyed him, "I only kissed him that one time. He started humping me and trying to force me to service him. It was disgusting! Then I found out a few of them were into that…you know…going out to their cars under the guise of smoking."

"Unreal," Stephen drawled, "I never knew about any of this."

"They didn't advertise!"

"How did you and Travis wind up together in the loo?"

"You know, you look at each other over the cards. A joke made here, a subtle hint there. It turns into a little flirtation. Nothing overt, just little words or phrases, undetectable by those around us. Then the break and people scatter. Some go to refill their drink and get something to eat, some go to the loo, and some go out for a fag. I met Travis in the foyer and no one was around and we kipped upstairs."

"Where was I while all this was happening?" Stephen gaped.

"Holed up in your study," Lionel stated, "That's probably the other reason no one looked for _us_!"

"They just assumed we were having it off?" Stephen blinked and queried, "How did you know I wasn't one of them?"

"I never saw you go outside. That night when we kissed, I could tell you had kissed another man before, but you weren't doing it regularly. It was quite nice; you weren't groping me.

I liked you. You and I were on even footing. You work in a shop and I work in a shop. You treated me as an equal. I could smoke in your study. Everyone else had to go outside, but I was with the man of the house! I had special privilege!"

Stephen chuckled, "_Man of the house_!"

Lionel beamed, "But you see what I'm saying? We were having a good time, being friends, and you expected nothing. We could watch telly or play chess or just sit and snuggle and you weren't trying to force my head into your lap."

"Oh, I was scared! Even with the door locked, I was sure Olivia would have walked in on us!" Stephen puffed, "Did any of their wives know?"

"_Kenneth and Charles' wives_ knew after that night! I mean, who talks about that? You don't think Charles' wife called Kenneth's wife do you?" Lionel mimicked a woman's voice, "'Fran, do you know what your Kenneth was doing last night at the Peacock's bridge club? He was out in our car giving my Charles head! Yes. Right. Tea at your house at three. I'll be there. Buh-Bye!' "

Stephen burst into laughter at the absurdity of such a conversation, "No, I don't think it would have ever been mentioned! The poor woman! I can almost see the image- she opens the car door. Charles, with his pinched face, balding head back, sucking his breath through clenched teeth, moaning, palming the back of Kenneth's head…telling him to hurry…"

"Ugh! What a dreadful thought!" Lionel winced, "I wonder if Kenneth swallowed!"

"Oh, good God, Lionel! I don't want to think about that!" Stephen stammered.


	16. The Captain Takes Charge

**The Captain Takes Charge**

Stephen tossed and turned in his sleep. He jolted awake, his breath ragged, his arousal pressing urgently against the buttoned closure of his pyjamas. He looked round the darkened room, his eyes struggling to focus, as he turned to face the delicious form of his slumbering lover. Lionel lie on his stomach and soughed deeply through parted lips; Stephen gazed lovingly at him as a wickedly erotic idea crept into his mind.

Lionel had recently teased him about not being spontaneous or taking the initiative in their lovemaking.

Stephen quickly divested himself of his pyjamas and set his plan in motion. Stealthily he reached over and retrieved a gold foil packet from Lionel's bedside table drawer. Stephen carefully tore it open so as not to make any crinkling sounds. Unrolling and tugging, he attended to the necessities, lest he have to fiddle with that jar!

Stephen, nervously perspiring, placed one knee between Lionel's slightly parted thighs. His hands trembled as he lightly ran them up and down Lionel's sides and he caressed his back and hips. Lionel's eyes fluttered open and he moaned softly as Stephen pressed his lips against his shoulders and administered hot kisses to the sprinkling of freckles adorning his skin. Stephen gently tickled the backs of Lionel's thighs, eliciting breathy giggles.

"I'm impressed, Captain Peacock," Lionel purred.

"Well, you said I never take the lead," Stephen said as he maneuvered on top and Lionel eagerly spread his thighs.

Lionel raised his hips rakishly, presenting himself, and urged him on. Stephen gently guided himself to the threshold with one hand and gripped Lionel's shoulder with the other. His breath caught in his throat and he groaned loudly as Stephen strained forward and entered him. Stephen shuddered and his eyes rolled back at the intense sensation coursing through him like wildfire. Stephen then waited.

"It's alright; you're not going to hurt me. Carry on," Lionel coached breathily.

He sucked his breath in and bit his lower lip as Lionel pressed against him provocatively. Stephen lay down on Lionel's back, skin to skin, and positioned his hands on either side of him. He rested his cheek next to Lionel's, whispering heated words in his ear; the feel of Lionel's beard against his face was electrifying. He steadily rocked him, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Lionel grunted with each thrust. Stephen reached forward, laced his fingers with Lionel's, groaned and pushed forward deeply. Lionel felt dizzy and light-headed, heaving and moaning as the most intense pleasure ravaged him. His rapid breath became ragged and choppy gasps with the increased rhythm and his heart drummed wildly in his chest.

Both men were moaning and whimpering, damp with sweat; Lionel groaned into his pillow, his body rigid, and his heart thumping. Stephen bit Lionel's shoulder, the musky scent of his perspiration driving him mad, and thrusted determinedly. Lionel began grinding against Stephen, and losing control, buried his face in the pillow, and roared as his climax steamrolled him. He wrapped his arms round Lionel and pumped him a few more times before quivering and collapsing, panting.

"I'm sorry I took the mickey on you, Stephen," Lionel whispered.

Stephen pressed his lips to against Lionel's back, "Apology accepted."

"I see why our Betty loved you so, Stephen; you are a very gentle and considerate lover," he crooned, exhaling hoarsely.

Stephen smiled against Lionel's damp skin and lingered inside him until he felt himself go flaccid. He pressed a soft kiss on Lionel's shoulder and rolled onto his side, taking Lionel with him. The lovers lay curled together and serenely drifted to sleep in each other's arms.


	17. Exercise Does A Body Good

**Exercise Does A Body Good**

The alarm jangled and Lionel reached over and tapped it silent. Lionel popped up and began to change into a pair of jogging shorts and trainers.

"What say? Fancy a jog round the park?" Lionel asked Stephen as he laced up his trainers, "I think the brisk morning air will do wonders for you!"

Stephen stretched, took a deep breath, and smacked his lips. He nodded and slid out from beneath the covers, grabbed his trainers from beneath his side of the bed, and slipped them on.

* * *

Poor Captain Peacock! After about a half-mile, he was barely able to keep up his end of the conversation. He began to fall back a few paces and Lionel slowed to allow Stephen to catch up.

"Come on! You can do it," Lionel coached, "Look! There's the end; just where that tree is."

"There are a lot of trees here!" he whinged, gasping, "Which tree do you mean?"

Lionel chuckled as Stephen stopped and doubled over and rested his hands on his knees.

"Just up ahead," Lionel pointed, "That tree nearest the bench. You can rest on the bench when we get there. There's a bubbler. See it now?"

Stephen straightened and began to hustle toward the finish.

Lionel sat waiting for him on the bench as Stephen arrived, disheveled and breathless.

"Good job!" Lionel congratulated him.

Stephen took a drink from the bubbler, "That was…invigorating!"

The air was chilly and steam wafted from both men.

"Race you home!" Lionel challenged him.

"No, thank you. If it's all the same to you, I'll walk!" Stephen replied indignantly.

* * *

Lionel fumbled with the keys as Stephen leaned with his back against the wall watching him. The lock clicked open and Lionel stepped inside. Stephen entered and as soon as the door closed behind them, Lionel slammed him against it.

"Ugh!" Stephen grunted as Lionel plowed into him, wrapping his arms round his middle and pinning him tightly.

Lionel's mouth crashed hard on Stephen's and his eyes burned with smoldering desire. The salty sweaty taste of Lionel's kiss drove Stephen wild; he cradled Lionel's head in his hands and slipped his tongue between Lionel's parted lips.

Stephen could feel Lionel's hardness pressing urgently against him through his nylon jogging shorts and he moaned softly. The muskiness of Lionel's perspiration sent Stephen into a frenzy and he dug his fingertips into Lionel's back.

Lionel nipped Stephen's neck and grinded his hips against him; he slid Stephen's shorts down mid-thigh and then snatched his own down. Lionel again wrapped his arms tightly round Stephen and began rocking him. Stephen's eyes rolled back as he pressed back fervidly.

The two men rubbed feverishly against each other, groaning and panting, kissing hungrily. Lionel slid down to his knees, grabbing his lover's bum in two handfuls, kissed his firm belly, and closed his lips round the length of Stephen. Stephen's eyes bugged and he sucked his breath in sharply. His knees wobbled and he whimpered as Lionel worked him enthusiastically. Stephen held onto Lionel's shoulders, fearing he would collapse to the floor. Unable to stand it any longer, Stephen grabbed the back of Lionel's head and thrust as his thighs quivered, his climax slamming him.

_Come on! Come on! _Lionel's brain screamed as Stephen's hips pumped. Lionel could feel his own release wash over him as he held possessively on to Stephen's hips.

Stephen's face screwed up in ecstasy and he bit his lower lip hard; he threw his head back, moaning wildly and breathlessly. He trembled as he ran his fingers through Lionel's damp hair, feeling himself pressed against the roof of Lionel's mouth as he swallowed. Lionel lingered a few moments, feeling Stephen relax and go soft. Lionel kissed his thighs and Stephen slid down to the floor and sat with his back against the door. Lionel crawled up and straddled Stephen's lap, covering Stephen's lips with his own. Stephen wrapped his arms round Lionel; his beard tickled Stephen's chin and their moustaches prickled their lips.

They drew back breathlessly.

"Oh, God, love, that was incredible!" Stephen whispered, his eyes rolling and his breath choppy.

Lionel smiled and kissed him again, "I love making you feel good."

"Are we going jogging tomorrow morning?" Stephen smiled mischievously, his eyebrows raised.

"Maybe we'll go for _two_ miles!" Lionel countered, arching an eyebrow.

Stephen pursed his lips thoughtfully. Lionel eased off Stephen's lap and proffered his hand to him. They stood up and headed to their bedroom to get ready for work.


	18. Chapter 23

_I realize that there aren't yet 23 chapters to this story, but I couldn't think of a title and this was how I sorted this chapter from others in my document file. As always, enjoy responsibly; remember, it's only fantasy._

**Chapter 23**

Stephen arrived home and entered his flat clutching a bottle of wine. The aroma of dinner cooking assailed him and he smiled. He loved when Lionel cooked dinner. He strode to the kitchen and spied his husband standing before the stove, his hand gingerly stirring. Stephen came up behind him and, setting the bottle on the worktop, gently kissed the back of Lionel's neck.

"Good evening, darling!" Stephen greeted him.

"Hi, love," Lionel answered, turning in his embrace, "You brought wine!"

"You want me to pour us a glass?"

"I made tea. Save the wine to have with dinner," Lionel said, pressing his lips to Stephen's.

"Mmmm," Stephen murmured when their lips parted, "That smells wonderful."

"It's a recipe I found tacked to the message board in the staff lounge."

Stephen kissed his way to the crook of Lionel's neck and nipped him playfully.

"Stop!" Lionel protested, flinching, "Dinner's going to burn! I have to stir it constantly. We can continue this after dinner."

Stephen pouted and pulled back, "Oh, all right," he sulked.

**The Postman Rings Once**

Stephen and Lionel enjoyed a leisurely shower together after a morning run in the park. They lathered each other and feverishly rubbed their soapy bodies together, laughing boyishly. Stephen gazed at his husband from beneath his brows, his grey eyes turning dark with desire, and their lips met in a passionate kiss. Stephen cradled Lionel's face in his hands, his fingertips gently stroking his beard.

"Turn round," Lionel whispered breathlessly.

Stephen leaned against the tiled wall and Lionel applied a generous amount of soap to himself. Lionel ran his hands up and down Stephen's thighs and backside, "Oh, you do have such a lovely, tight bum!" he murmured as he spread Stephen's cheeks.

Stephen's breath hitched and he braced himself and winced as Lionel pushed himself deep inside. Stephen let out a muffled grunt.

"Are you alright, dear?" Lionel asked and softly rubbed Stephen's back waiting for him to get accustomed to the sensation.

He wasn't fond of this position; it reminded him of the weekend he spent with Claybourne, but he knew sometimes Lionel just needed it a little more fervently.

"Mm-Hmm," Stephen nodded and puffed as Lionel wrapped his arms round his middle and humped him furiously.

Stephen whimpered, trying not to tense up, his face pressed hard against the wall. This wasn't going to take long; his eyes focused on the "Death Before Dishonour" tattoo on his forearm. He watched as water streamed over the bright red, blue and black dagger and ribbon design.

"Mmmm…You're delicious!" Lionel groaned as he reached under and began to stroke Stephen's erection.

Both men began to moan, Stephen's face screwed up, and he panted wide-mouthed as he felt his climax building. Stephen bucked against his lover and Lionel bit his back.

Stephen let out a strangled wail as he trembled and his release overcame him. The warm water cascaded over both of them and Lionel forcefully thrusted deeper, his teeth firmly gripping Stephen's wet skin. Lionel groaned and drove harder, his own release barreling over him. They stood panting, Lionel's arms tightly bear-hugging Stephen as the aftershocks of passion subsided. Stephen gasped and shivered as Lionel slowly backed out. They stood in the warm spray, embracing and kissing.

"That was lovely. I'm sorry if I hurt you; I don't mean to," Lionel breathed in his ear, "Sometimes it just feels so good to take you a little rough."

Stephen pursed his lips and nodded cordially, then kissed his cheek, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Lionel purred as he stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel round his waist, "I'll go start coffee."

"Alright," Stephen nodded and finished washing his hair.

* * *

There came a knock at the door. Lionel slipped into a dressing gown and strode through the lounge, the rushing sound of water coming from the washroom, "I'll get it," he called.

Stephen didn't hear him over the din of the shower.

Lionel opened the door and the postman stood in the doorway holding a legal-sized envelope and a clipboard, "Stephen Peacock?"

"No," he shook his head, "He's in the shower."

"Can you sign for a letter for him?" the postman asked.

"Yes."

"Sign here, please," he instructed holding the clipboard steady while Lionel scrawled his name.

The postman handed the envelope to Lionel, "Thank you."

Stephen walked through the lounge clad in a dressing gown as Lionel closed the door, "Who was that?" Stephen asked, looking towards the door.

"Postman. It's for you," Lionel answered, handing the envelope to Stephen.

Stephen walked over to the coffee table, picked up his reading glasses, and put them on. He glanced at the return address, "Ugh!" he groaned, "It's from Livvie's solicitor. I hope she's not seeking more money!"

Stephen tore the top of the envelope and slipped the letter out. His eyes went wide in horror and he blanched.

"What is it?" Lionel asked.

Stephen stood speechless, his mouth gaping.

Lionel took the letter from him and Stephen sat down on the sofa with a thud.

Lionel read aloud, "Dear Mr. Peacock," the letter began, "This letter is to inform you of the untimely death of your former wife, Mrs. Olivia Peacock…"

Lionel sat down next to his husband and wrapped his arm around Stephen.

"I'm sorry, darling," Lionel soothed.

"Does it say the cause of death?" Stephen asked.

Lionel scanned the letter, "No."

Stephen reached for the letter and continued reading.

"Livvie never changed her will after the divorce and it seems she's left the house and its contents to me," Stephen stated.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll have to contact her brother. Livvie was furious about the divorce and our relationship. She might not want me to have her house. The family might contest the will," Stephen said, his face sullen.

Lionel nodded in agreement. He gently rubbed Stephen's back and shoulders.

"I'm sorry, love," Lionel whispered as a single tear slowly slid down Stephen's cheek.

"You know. I hadn't loved her in a very long time, but we _were_ married for fifteen years. I'm not sure how I should feel. I can't help feeling a little guilty."

Lionel held Stephen tightly and gently rocked him, "It's alright. I'd say it's quite normal."

* * *

Stephen stood and walked to the telephone stand. He lifted the receiver and dialed Olivia's brother, Tom.

After initial pleasantries and Stephen voicing his condolences, he cut to the quick.

"The letter stated that I am the beneficiary of the house and its contents," Stephen stated.

"Yes, that is correct. Claire and I are aware of that," Tom said quietly.

"Are there any objections? Did you and your family want the house? Does Claire want it?"

Lionel held his hand, his fingers laced with Stephen's.

"No, Stephen. We've each got our own homes. Our father bought that house for Livvie so she would have a place of her own. Even if Claire and I wanted to contest the will, both of us have two children. To whom would the house go?"

"I suppose the house could be sold and the proceeds divided between your two families," Stephen suggested, his eyebrows raised. Lionel searched his face, trying to decipher Tom's responses.

"We've discussed that. But we decided that if Livvie didn't want you to have the house she could have changed her will to reflect that," Tom rationalized, "You know, Stephen, Livvie had tried to tell us about your living conditions and the relationship you are in now. We didn't ask Livvie any prying questions and I won't ask you any now. I will ask this: Do _you _want the house?"

Stephen thought a moment. He took a deep breath, "Yes. I would like to have the house. But only if it is alright with you and Claire."

"We're never going to use it and we don't want to be bothered selling it."

Stephen sighed and nodded, "Very well. Is there anything in the house that you would like to have?"

"I can't think of anything off hand. But if you come across anything that looks sentimental or particularly personal, please feel free to ring either Claire or myself."

"I will," Stephen assured him, "And Tom?"

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"I'm sorry…for everything," Stephen said softly.

"She wasn't the easiest person to live with! I should know, I grew up with her!" he chuckled, "Good bye, Stephen."

"The letter from the solicitor didn't mention her cause of death..." Stephen said cautiously.

"She died peacefully in her sleep. She was supposed to visit Claire for the weekend. When she didn't arrive on the train and we couldn't reach her by phone, we knew something was amiss."

"Thank you, Tom. Good bye," Stephen ended and cradled the receiver.

"What's the verdict?" Lionel asked.

Stephen turned to Lionel, his face serious, "The house is ours, if you want to move in."

Lionel smiled wryly, "I've got some fond memories of that house! I used to snog this sexy man who lived there. He gave me the best head I ever had upstairs in the study."

Stephen shot him a look, "Lionel!" he gasped, scandalized.

"We'll keep the four-poster in the bedroom? I always fancied a romp with you in that bed," Lionel mused, grinning mischievously.

Stephen chuckled nervously.

Lionel laughed heartily, "Come on, Pip! We need to get ready for work!"

Stephen stood up and pulled Lionel to his feet. Their lips met in a soft kiss.

"I really am sorry, love," Lionel said when they pulled back, "I'm sorry I took the mickey just then."

Stephen pursed his lips and nodded. They headed back to their bedroom to dress for work.


	19. Untitled

**Untitled Chapter**

Stephen and Lionel shared a quiet cup of tea at their kitchen table, enjoying a plate of biscuits Betty had baked for them. Stephen pondered a moment; he thought about a past incident that puzzled him. As he slowly stirred his tea, he replayed the scene in his mind.

"Lionel, when I told Claybourne that I wanted to marry you," Stephen started, "he said it wasn't safe. What did he mean by that?"

"There are people out there who attack and beat people like us, Stephen," he explained to his husband.

Stephen's eyebrows shot up.

"You mean you never knew?" Lionel asked, surprised.

"No. Claybourne never came to work bruised or bloodied. He never mentioned any of his friends being brutalized." He reached for a biscuit.

"Because they stay behind closed doors. Remember the first time we went to his and Roger's party and he said 'you're among friends here'?"

Stephen nodded, sipping his tea.

"That's what he meant," Lionel explained, "We were safe there."

"Oh. I thought he meant that we were among friends. I took him at his word," Stephen admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Well, he meant that…_in a way_," Lionel emphasized, "He meant that we could openly hold hands and let our guard down. You know, kiss without fear of being beaten up. But it's not like that for everyone."

Stephen looked at him troubled.

"When we invited people to our wedding, we took a risk. If someone would have said something to the wrong person, there could have been a brawl. There are men who go into clubs looking for men like us to beat up. The police don't do much in the way of helping, so we're on our own. That's why when we're in public, we have to be mindful of the dangers. David put himself out there for us as well. Even though he's not like us, he could have been targeted for helping us."

Stephen nodded sadly. He loved Lionel and his heart constricted at the thought of someone hurting him. He slowly reached for Lionel's hand and covered it with his own.

"But we're not hurting anyone. I mean it's between you and me."

Lionel chuckled at Stephen's naïveté, "Oh, you have much to learn, dear!"

"Did you ever know anyone to get attacked?" Stephen asked, his throat suddenly dry.

"A few of my friends," Lionel nodded and took a drink from his cup, "Trey was attacked by a gang. He was kicked and stabbed. It's amazing he's alive."

Stephen wrapped his arms lovingly around Lionel, "I would hate anything like that to happen to you," he said resting his head on Lionel's chest.

Lionel pressed his lips against the top of Stephen's head, "And I worry about you as well, love."


	20. Chapter 25

**Grooming Stephen  
**

Mrs. Slocombe stood over Captain Peacock, trimming his sideburns, in her kitchen. He sat at the kitchen table, glazed expression, distracted and distant.

"Stephen, are you alright?" she asked, snapping him back to the present.

"Mm-Hmm…" he nodded, not looking at her.

"You seem…_preoccupied_."

He blinked, "I'm sorry, love. I've got a bit on my mind."

"Is everything alright at home? Between you and Lionel?" she asked cautiously.

He nodded biting his lower lip.

"What?" she asked, "Tell it to Betty the agony aunt. You two aren't fighting, are you?"

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Bedroom problems?" she raised her eyebrows.

He sighed and looked down at the linoleum floor, "I love Lionel but sometimes when he makes love to me, it's very painful."

Betty blinked and furrowed her brows, confused, "Stephen, how does a man make love to another man? You don't have a…"

He cupped his hands round her ear and whispered.

Her eyes went wide and she pulled back a little, "Oh…_oh!"_

"I like the intimacy; I like the touching and kissing and cuddling and some of the other things we do. But when he bends me over and takes me from the back, I feel degraded. It doesn't last long, so I put up with it, but I hate it," he said softly.

"Have you talked to Lionel about this?" she asked concerned.

"No, I don't want to hurt his feelings."

Stephen liked being able to talk to Betty as a friend. She never judged him and sometimes she seemed more like a big sister than a coworker.

"Stephen, don't you think it'd hurt his feelings _more_ if you pretend everything is alright when secretly you hate it?"

Stephen shrugged, "He seems to enjoy that so much, I don't want to disappoint him. He doesn't want it like that very often…" his voice trailed off and he swallowed hard.

"You need to tell him," she said adamantly.

She moved behind him and rubbed his shoulders, feeling the tightness of his muscles, "You're all tense!" She gently pressed her lips against the back of his neck, "Mmm…you smell wonderful, Stephen!"

He smiled.

She eyed his sideburns, deciding she was finished with them, "Look up so I can trim your moustache."

Obediently he did so and she deftly snipped the hairs overlapping his lip. He locked his eyes on hers, watching as she intently stared, concentrating on her work. She brushed the whiskers away and studied his moustache.

"Now hold very still. You have some errant nose hairs," she instructed.

"You do pamper me, Betty," he crooned as he leaned back, tilting his head upwards.

"Shh!"

He winked at her, his eyes dark and seductive, and pursed his lips.

"You're teasing me, Stephen," she scolded him, "and that's not fair. Time was, I would do your grooming and you would take me out for dinner and back here for…gratuities."

"I'm grateful. But I'm married," he quipped.

"Then don't toy with me," she sneered,"Once upon a time you liked it more than any man I'd ever known."

He laughed to himself.

"Once upon a time, I liked it more than any man _I'd_ ever known!" he scratched his chin contemplatively.

"Would you like tea?" she asked, walking over to the worktop and switching on the electric kettle.

"Please."


	21. Relocating

**Relocating**

Stephen and Lionel surveyed Stephen's house and decided they would move in. The house was stuffy and in need of freshening up and redecorating. They inquired of Tom and discovered that Olivia had not died in the bed, but on the settee after falling asleep while reading a book.

Stephen and Lionel enlisted the help of their friends and coworkers, putting Claybourne in charge of the contingent. Claybourne and Roger started by having a jumble sale to rid the house of all the unwanted items, most of which had been chosen by Olivia. All items left over were donated to the charity shoppe. With the house de-cluttered, the team set out to transform the home from a feminine domain to a castle fit for two kings.

There were very few conditions as Stephen and Lionel gave their work detail carte blanche to make it homey and inviting.

"I want it to look like two men live here," Stephen stated his only stipulation, "I don't want it to look like a boudoir! No ruffles. No feathers. Nothing frilly or pink."

"What about the loo?" Mr. Lucas asked.

"No. Not even the loo!" Stephen stated firmly.

"No, Captain Peacock. _Where's _the loo?"

"Upstairs to the left, Mr. Lucas, across from the study which, by the way, is going to be left as-is."

A sigh of relief. One less room to work on.

The team consisted of Roger and Claybourne in the kitchen; Mr. Lucas converting the lounge since he'd had experience with his mother's home remodel, changing the value of the home; and Mrs. Slocombe and Miss Brahms rejuvenating the bedroom. Several of Lionel's friends gathered to aid the others by spreading drop cloths and tarps over the furniture and bare floors, scrub skirting boards, and make runs to the off-license. Stephen and Lionel were sent outside to work on the front and back gardens where they would not be underfoot or kibitzing. Stephen was dismayed that Olivia had let his roses go to pot after the divorce. The garden had deteriorated to a tangle of brambles and thorns and thicket, overgrown with weeds. He had his work cut out for him and Lionel was all too eager to help his husband improve their home.

Roger and Claybourne attacked the kitchen, stripping the floral wallpaper and pulling down the hideous chintz curtains and matching chair seat covers.

"Ugh!" sighed Claybourne, peeling a long strip of flowery paper, "this is awful!"

"Makes you wonder what she was thinking!" Roger quipped and rolled his eyes.

The kitchen ended up a calming moss green with ecru curtains, white cabinets and a new light fixture for over the dining room table. Mr. Lucas painted the lounge a muted straw color. The settee was hauled off to the charity shoppe, replaced with the dark leather sofa from Stephen and Lionel's flat.

In the bedroom, Betty and Miss Brahms worked diligently to make things fresh and new. They painted the frame of the four-poster bed black. The walls were recoated in a soft clay earth color. Betty contributed a new duvet cover in contrasting chestnut brown.

"I don't want to think about what those two are going to be doing in this bedroom!" Miss Brahms steamed.

"Then _don't_, Miss Brahms!" Betty scolded, her face stern and protective, "Captain Peacock asked for our assistance, not our criticism."

"I don't see how you can just let by-gones be by-gones."

"Because we all have to work together at the store. It doesn't do any good for there to be hostilities."

Miss Brahms sighed as she smoothed the pillowcases and set the pillows in place, "I hope he…uh…_they_ appreciate this."

Betty smiled, "They're really quite sweet together. It's not like you think. They're like two friends; they don't grope each other or anything like that."

Miss Brahms shook her head slowly, "I don't know. How does this happen? He was married and you two were having it off on the side. Couldn't he have tried it both ways?"

"He _did _try it both ways, Miss Brahms," Betty explained, "But his love for Lionel won out."

"I don't know, Mrs. Slocombe, how does one just switch gears?"

Stephen, who had been standing in the doorway admiring their work, cleared his throat. Both women jumped, startled.

"I fell in love, Miss Brahms. Simple as that," Captain Peacock shrugged.

Miss Brahms looked down at the beige carpet, shifting nervously.

Betty straightened her smock, "I'm sorry, Captain Peacock! We didn't mean to gossip."

"Yes, Captain Peacock, I'm sorry and all," Miss Brahms said softly.

Stephen smiled warmly, his eyes a little sad, "This looks wonderful! You've both done very well. Thank you. Really."

Betty wrapped her arms round Stephen's waist, "I really am sorry, Stephen."

He nodded, surveying the room and its soothing tones and décor. The women really made it look warm and inviting.

"Thank you both. It really does look wonderful!" he said as he turned to go downstairs.

Betty glared at Miss Brahms and shook her head.

Miss Brahms shrugged, "Well, I'm still trying to figure it all out."

"I think he is as well," Betty said flatly.

* * *

Mr. Lucas was almost finished painting the walls of the lounge a warm straw color. Lionel's friend Larry knocked on the front door, bringing food from The Tandoori Rickshaw, an Indian and Chinese takeaway, for the tireless workers.

Larry had a sinewy, dancer's athletic build. He was about a full head shorter than Lionel, with curly black hair, clean-shaven. Penetrating ice-blue eyes and a regal nose; he had a squared jaw, dimpled chin and long neck; long, tapered fingers, and full sensual lips. His faded, tight jeans showed off his muscular legs and sculpted bum. He was about four years younger than Lionel. His button-up shirt was open to the third button, revealing a thatch of curly black chest hair.

Larry complimented Roger and Claybourne on their incredible eye for color in the dining room. He stood standing, looking over Roger and Claybourne in their smocks and coveralls.

"I like the camel and moss colors and how you brought that color scheme from the kitchen into the dining room," Larry bubbled, "I especially love the splash of color in the chandelier- that cranberry color really brightens the room!"

"We picked up the chandelier at the charity shoppe when we brought all of the items that didn't sell in the jumble sale. I lacquered it myself," Claybourne bragged a little, his blue eyes shimmering with pride.

"Wherever did you find spray lacquer in that color?" Larry chirped.

"Oh, it's not spray lacquer; it's _nail_ lacquer! Mrs. Slocombe gave me several half-empty bottles and I found a few in Mrs. Peacock's vanity. I poured them into a jar and thinned it and applied it with a brush," he said, waving his hand with a flourish.

"Your ingenuity and creativity are very sexy, Claybourne," Larry crooned, his eyes riveted on Claybourne.

Claybourne blushed at Larry's flirtations, which were not lost on Roger.

Roger could fell his face grow hot and he narrowed his eyes at Larry. Claybourne shifted uncomfortably.

"ROWR!" Lionel growled in mock cat-like fashion, breaking the tension, "Calm down, girls!"

Stephen slipped his hand into Lionel's.

"Oh, Li," Larry smirked and arched an eyebrow, "It's just a little harmless flirting. There was a time before you landed yourself a handsome captain that you welcomed my flirting. We made beautiful music between the sheets, if memory serves me."

Larry's eyes shifted to Lionel's and he licked his lips slightly.

Stephen squeezed Lionel's hand sharply and glared at Larry from under his brows. Claybourne retreated to the kitchen, followed by Roger.

"Oh, look! The Peacock's feathers are ruffled!" Larry teased.

Stephen's nostrils flared and Lionel squeezed his hand in acknowledgement.

"Let's eat!" Lionel said, trying to deescalate the situation.

Larry laid out the pans and containers, removing the lids from sweet and sour chicken, rice, Tandoori chicken, poppadums, hummus, and other steaming delicacies. Roger and Claybourne retrieved a stack of china and cutlery from the kitchen.

"It's a good thing Mrs. Peacock bought service for twenty!" Stephen chuckled.

Lionel went into the kitchen and returned with two bottles of wine, "In case anyone is thirsty."

"You could have the most wonderful dinner parties here," Larry interjected, "Maybe this year's fancy dress party could be held here."

"Maybe," Stephen said skeptically, sucking in his cheeks and pursing his lips, his eyes narrowed.

Mr. Lucas entered the dining room, his bandana tied on his head pirate-like, "Oooh, poppadums!" he smiled, reaching for a plate.

Sensing the discomfiture of Captain Peacock and his spouse, Mr. Lucas shot a look, "What?"

Stephen shook his head, jaw firmly set, "Nothing."

Mr. Lucas shrugged and continued to load his plate.

Mrs. Slocombe and Miss Brahms entered the dining room, wiping their hands on their smocks.

"Ohh, I could just do with some of that!" Miss Brahms said reaching for the bottle of wine.

"Oh, yes! Please pour me a glass, Miss Brahms!" Betty chimed.

Miss Brahms filled two scotch tumblers with wine for Betty and herself. Her eyes glanced round the room, "Criminy! Mr. Lucas is the only available man here!" she whispered to Betty, looking dejected.

Betty chuckled when she realized what her coworker had meant, "It figures. Just our luck!"

* * *

Stephen and Lionel thanked their interior decorators for all their help and hard work.

"I hope you enjoy your new home, Captain Peacock! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Mr. Lucas quipped.

"A little late for that, Mr. Lucas, don't you think?" Stephen countered, arching an eyebrow.

Mr. Lucas' eye flew open and a look of total embarrassment washed over his countenance, "Uh..." he stammered, "I didn't mean..."

"Oh, nevermind, Mr. Lucas! Thank you for helping us!" Stephen chuckled, extending his hand.

"Yes. Thank you," Lionel echoed.

The work was completed by the early evening and the friends departed.

"Finally, it's finished," Stephen exhaled as he took Lionel in his arms soon as the front door closed.

"Yes. It looks great!" he smiled.

"I hope your roses will recover. What a mess!"

Stephen's countenance turned dour.

"What's wrong, love?" Lionel asked, " Don't worry; I'm sure the roses will be just fine. Even though you've had to cut them way back, there was still a lot of foliage left on them."

Stephen just bowed and shook his head slowly. Lionel curled a finger under Stephen's chin and lifted it, "What?"

Stephen sighed, "Nothing."

"What?" Lionel pressed.

Stephen's eyes focused on something on the mat at his feet.

"Stephen? What's wrong?" Lionel urged.

Stephen set his jaw and refused to make eye contact with his husband. He realized this had nothing to do with the roses. Lionel leaned in and gently kissed Stephen's cheek.

"Larry?" Lionel whispered, smiling knowingly.

Stephen nodded, taking in a deep breath.

"You know him! He's a boorish lout," he reassured,"He's all mouth and trousers."

"Well, I didn't appreciate what he'd said about you and him," Stephen pouted.

"Larry and I haven't been involved in a very long time. Once you and I became serious, I never went to see him again. I was still experimenting when I was involved with Larry. You're very sexy when you're jealous."

Lionel smoothed Stephen's sideburns with his fingertips and cupped his face in his hands. He sought Stephen's lips with his. Stephen slightly opened his mouth as their lips met, his tongue curling round Lionel's.

"I saw you getting a bit miffed when he was checking out your Claybourne!" Lionel said when they parted.

Stephen bristled, "Well, it was rather rude of him to be so blatant in front of Roger."

"Well, if it's any consolation, Larry went home in a cab with your Miss Brahms!"

Stephen's eyebrows shot up and his eyes bugged, "Won't she be in for a surprise!"

"I think he will be as well!"

Stephen tittered at the thought, his mood softening.

Stephen sniffed and wrinkled his nose, "The smell of paint is rather strong. I think we should spend the night at the flat and open the windows here to air the house out."

Lionel nodded in agreement. He pulled Stephen close and covered Stephen's mouth with his. They stood in the foyer kissing passionately and holding onto each other tightly. Their breathing became erratic and they pressed urgently against each other and both knew that if they didn't break for their flat, they would end up on the floor making love right there in the foyer on the drop cloths. Lionel ran his hands over Stephen's bum and gently nipped his neck. Stephen's breath hitched as Lionel's hands came round front and began unbuttoning his trousers. Lionel slipped his hand inside and wrapped his fingers firmly round Stephen's erection. Stephen whimpered and bit his bottom lip as his spouse stroked him earnestly. Lionel smiled, enjoying the look of sheer pleasure on his lover's face as he administered gentle teasing strokes. Stephen was up on his tip-toes, face screwed up in rapturous pleasure, moaning breathlessly as Lionel worked him. Lionel loved when his husband came unglued at his touch.

"Come on, let's go christen that four poster!" Lionel whispered huskily.

Entwined they ascended the stairs. The bedroom had been put back in order. The warm earth tones welcomed them as Stephen snapped the light on. The bed beckoned to them and they moved towards it. They were exhausted from their work in the garden, but exhilarated by the thought of being in their own place and being together.

"Oh, that looks lovely!" Lionel moaned softly in Stephen's ear, motioning to the thick duvet and pile of pillows.

Neither man noticed the smell of paint as they began undressing each other. They stood pressed together, each one's erection rubbing against the other. Lionel fell onto the bed, pulling Stephen with him. Lionel positioned himself behind Stephen and pressed his hips against Stephen's backside.

"I didn't bring the lube," Stephen fretted.

"Is there anything in the loo we could use? _Pond's cold cream_, perhaps?" Lionel muttered flirtatiously.

"No. Remember? We threw that entire lot out," Stephen shook his head.

Lionel spit into his hand. "I'll be gentle," he said wrapping his arms round Stephen.

Stephen arched his back, granting his lover access. Stephen gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

"Shh…shh…shh," Lionel soothed, "Breathe. Relax."

Lionel nipped Stephen's shoulder and kissed the back of his neck. Stephen reached back and stroked Lionel's thighs, gently scoring them with his nails.

Stephen and Lionel settled into a rhythm, "Our first night in our own home!" Lionel whispered excitedly.

Stephen nodded. Lionel slid his hand down to Stephen's erection and began to stroke him again.

"You don't seem to mind it when I take you from behind in bed. Why does it bother you so much when I mount you from the rear?" Lionel asked between breaths.

"I like it like this. You're holding me, you're kissing me. It feels nice. It feels like we're making love. The other way just feels bestial. I feel violated and sometimes it really hurts," Stephen murmured.

Lionel kissed Stephen's back, "I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I surely never intended to hurt you."

Lionel ran his hand up Stephen's chest and rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Stephen let out a strangled cry and began to press back against Lionel. How Lionel loved to tease out those sounds from his lover. Stephen's nipples were so sensitive that he came undone whenever Lionel even lightly brushed them.

Lionel smiled against Stephen's warm moist skin, "OK, we're going to try something new. I'm going to roll onto my back and you're going to be on top of me. Ready?"

Stephen nodded, "Alright," he whispered nervously.

"Ready?"

"Mm-Hmm," Stephen nodded.

Lionel lay on his back with Stephen straddling him facing toward the foot of the bed away from him. Lionel ran his hands up and down Stephen's thighs and cupped his bum. He lightly scratched Stephen's thighs, making him shiver with delight.

"Oh, the view from back here is lovely!" he crooned, feathering Stephen's hips with his fingertips, "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright. What do I do now?" Stephen gasped.

"Ride me, dirty cowboy," he growled.

He pushed Stephen forward and then grabbed his hips and pulled back down. Stephen gulped a mouthful of air.

"Oh, my God!" Lionel wailed, "This is incredible; I can't wait to do this to you!"

He guided Stephen until he had the rhythm. Lionel watched the spectacle before him, his erection disappearing and reappearing as Stephen rode him, his head swimming. Stephen worked himself as he cantered, panting raggedly, and the bed creaking with his exertions. It wasn't long before both men were moaning loudly and Lionel was bucking wildly. Stephen throttled himself, his head spinning; he arched his back and let out a guttural groan as release took him. Lionel pulled Stephen back until he was lying on top of him, Lionel thrusting up into him, their breathing hoarse and erratic.

The fragrance of sweat and lovemaking overpowered the smell of paint. Lionel took Stephen into his arms and kissed him softly, his heart drumming in his chest.

"I love you, Stephen."

Stephen nodded, his fingertips grazing Lionel's soft beard, "I love you, too."

Stephen softly laughed as his eyes slid shut.

"What's so funny?" Lionel whispered against Stephen's hair.

"Shirley Brahms had said to Betty she didn't want to think about what we would be doing in this bedroom!"

Their faint laughter trailed off as they fell into a deep sleep in each other's arms.


	22. Lazy Sunday

Lazy Sunday

Stephen lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, arms folded, and his fingers laced behind his head. Lionel lay curled next to him sleeping. Stephen's mind wandered lost in thought, unaware, as his husband stirred a little. Lionel's eyes fluttered open and he ventured a peek. He laughed silently to himself watching Stephen. Even after almost a year living together, Stephen still would not sleep naked, electing instead to sleep in his boxers and a vest.

_The consummate gentleman _Lionel thought _so elegant and upright. I'll have to fix that!_

He gently slid his hand up Stephen's thigh, snaking his fingers up the leg of his boxers. Stephen's breath hitched as his train of thought derailed and Lionel's deft fingers sought his flaccid member.

"What're you thinking, love?" Lionel asked, pressing his lips to Stephen's shoulder.

Stephen sighed, "I wish I'd had children. You know, no one in the Ladies' or Gents' Department has children. We're the end of our lines."

"I'm sorry, love; I can't give you children!" Lionel joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Stephen smiled and turned to Lionel. Lionel pressed his forehead against Stephen's, his eyes burning with desire. Their lips met in a soft kiss and Lionel moved his hand to Stephen's hip. Their kiss deepened and Stephen wrapped his arms round Lionel. They lay there spooning, pressing urgently against each other, their breathing becoming heavy.

Lionel softly kissed his cleft chin. Stephen crashed his mouth on Lionel's and Lionel smiled into their kiss, watching as Stephen's grey eyes rolled back in unabated bliss.

"I'm surprised with all of your escapades, you've never had a child," Lionel inferred when they pulled back.

"It's not like I didn't try with Betty…Hey! What do you mean _all my escapades?_ I wasn't a sex maniac!" Stephen protested.

Lionel laughed heartily, pulling Stephen close and nuzzling his neck.

"You seem to enjoy it now," he muttered against Stephen's skin.

He inhaled Stephen's scent, planting open-mouthed kisses on his collarbone. Stephen moaned softly, his head lolled back, giving Lionel access to his neck. Lionel rolled Stephen under him. He straddled him, kissing him hungrily. Stephen's hands slid up Lionel's back, his fingernails gently scoring his smooth skin.

Lionel's heart thumped in his chest as they lay there spooning and enjoying the quiet slow paced Sunday morning. Stephen's breath became labored as Lionel began grinding his hips, his erection pressing against him.

"I think they want to play together," Lionel whispered breathily.

"They do seem to enjoy it!"

Stephen smiled into his kiss and fumbled with his boxers, wriggling out of them eel-like. Lionel leaned over to retrieve the lube from his bedside table. He unscrewed the cap from the tube and squeezed a generous amount into the palm of his hand. Then taking them both in his hand, Lionel held their erections together firmly and stroked them simultaneously. Stephen craned his neck to watch his husband's deft hand work both of them. He arched his back, his eyes riveted on his husband's ministrations. Lionel watched Stephen's face as it screwed up in pleasure, his cheeks puffed out as he arched his back.

"You like that?" Lionel murmured.

Stephen nodded, his eyes closed tightly. Lionel ran his finger over the tips of both of their hard members, spreading the lube. Stephen shivered at the sensation, his toes curled. He watched as Lionel's hand worked them fervently. His thighs tightened as he moved his hips in rhythm with Lionel's manipulations. Stephen bit his lower lip as Lionel increased the pace pumping both of them steadily. He whimpered in ecstasy and then began to clear his throat gruffly when he caught himself; Lionel laughed at his lover's attempt to save face.

Lionel released them and gently rubbed Stephen's erect nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, driving the older man wild. Then, straddling Stephen's chest, Lionel moved forward until his knees were tucked into Stephen's armpits. Stephen licked his lips and Lionel cradled his head as he slid his rock-hard erection into his waiting mouth. Stephen's eyes flew wide open and he smiled delightedly as he discovered the sweet strawberry flavor of the lube Lionel had spread on them.

"I thought you might like that!" Lionel purred, "Alright, nice and slow."

Stephen cupped Lionel's bum and took his full length in. Lionel worked himself in and out, taking care not to gag his lover; Stephen watched Lionel's firm, flat stomach tuck and roll with his movements.

"You've become quite good at this, Stephen," Lionel said softly, stroking Stephen's cleft chin. Stephen's eyes locked on Lionel's and he watched as Lionel moaned, his face screwed up in pleasure. Lionel's heart thumped wildly in his chest; he held Stephen's head firmly and delivered a few breathless strokes as his release washed over him. Stephen dug his fingertips into Lionel's clenched bum as he clamped his lips on his throbbing erection.

Stephen closed his eyes and sucked his cheeks in hard as the warm liquid flooded his mouth.

Lionel's finger gently traced the birthmark on Stephen's cheek, "It's alright, darling. You don't have to swallow it if you don't want to."

Stephen nodded and breathed slowly through his nose, calming himself. Lionel could feel himself pressed against the roof of Stephen's mouth. He backed up a little, pulling himself out. Stephen pursed his lips and kissed the tip.

"That was lovely," Lionel sighed, "Your turn."

Stephen sat up, ran his fingers through his hair, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Lionel slid to the floor and knelt between Stephen's parted thighs. Stephen watched as Lionel glided his tongue from the base to the tip of his husband's arousal. Stephen's fingers stroked Lionel's beard as he watched himself disappear between Lionel's supple lips. Lionel held firm to Stephen's thighs as his head bobbed, his lips and tongue caressing him. Lionel cupped Stephen's twins lovingly, and then slipped a finger inside him. Stephen's breath hitched and he flinched as Lionel entered him, a soft moan escaping.

"Oh," Stephen panted wide-mouthed as Lionel's finger found the sweet spot.

Lionel worked his finger in and out and his mouth up and down; Stephen's cheeks puffed as his breath became ragged.

His toes curled into tight fists and his thighs quivered as Lionel worked him expertly. Stephen whimpered and his fingers curled round the hair at the base of Lionel's neck. His hands slid to Lionel's shoulders and he sucked his breath through his clenched teeth. He was savoring Lionel's ministrations, but was losing ground fast.

"Oh, God!" he groaned, wrapping his legs tightly round Lionel's torso.

He cradled Lionel's head and thrust two times before collapsing on the bed spent, his chest heaving.

Lionel trailed his tongue the length of Stephen's deflated member and kissed his belly as he stood up.

"Breakfast, dear?" he chuckled as Stephen lay there catching his breath.

Stephen nodded and sighed contentedly, "Yes. That will be lovely."

"Coffee?" Lionel smiled.

"Strong black coffee," Stephen replied standing up.

"Would you like some eggs?" Lionel inquired.

He smiled broadly, "Fried eggs, toast, bacon, and two tomato slices."

Stephen pulled his bathrobe on and slid his feet into his house shoes.

Lionel shook his head and laughed, "Always the consummate English gentleman!"


	23. Accusations

Lionel shifted his BMW into gear and he and Stephen were off to work. They didn't drive to work together often, but they did enjoy each other's company on the few days they chanced it. Stephen reached for his left hand and slipped his wedding ring off and stared sullenly at it for a few seconds before tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Lionel laid his hand on top of Stephen's and gently stroked the smooth skin with his thumb, "I know," he sighed.

Lionel twisted his own ring and removed it, stashing it in his jacket pocket as well.

They knew all too well about having to be discreet while at work and in public. One slip could expose their secret and lead to repercussions.

"One day this won't be necessary, love," Lionel said softly.

Stephen nodded. So far he and Lionel went about their lives undetected. At Grace Brothers, he maintained his staunch floorwalker persona. His coworkers who _did_ know his secret did not discuss it. They knew enough not to gossip around Mr. Grainger or Mr. Rumbold or Mr. Harman, and definitely not around Young Mr. Grace.

Lionel's coworkers weren't suspicious and he worked diligently and kept to himself. There was a certain degree of effeminacy that went along with his job and no one questioned it.

"What do you fancy for dinner?" Stephen asked.

"Hmm…" Lionel thought aloud, "That pasta you made last week was rather delicious. Would you make that?"

Stephen chuckled, "You're easy to please!"

Lionel smiled lovingly at him, "I try to be."

Lionel down-shifted and stopped the car in front of Grace Brothers. Having kissed each other good-bye in the safety and privacy of their home, Stephen stepped out of the car and turned to give Lionel a loving smile.

"Have a good day!" Lionel chirped.

"And you as well," Stephen replied and closed the door.

* * *

Captain Peacock set his homburg on the Men's counter and signed the ledger. As he walked to the fitting room to hang up his coat and hat, his good mood was interrupted by Mr. Rumbold's beckoning from his office.

"Captain Peacock!"

"Yes, sir?" Captain Peacock responded, standing in the open doorway.

"Come into my office a moment, please. Close the door."

His voice was serious and businesslike which made Captain Peacock a bit uneasy.

"Yes, sir?" Captain Peacock raised his eyebrows.

"Please. Sit down."

Captain Peacock sat in front of his superior, his long legs crossed neatly, and folded his hands in his lap, lacing his fingers.

Mr. Rumbold snapped open a cigarette case and offered Captain Peacock one, "Care for a fag?"

Stephen reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his own case, flipped it open and retrieved one of his own. His heart skipped as his hand lightly brushed against his wedding ring stowed inside the pocket as he returned the case.

"No, thank you, I have my own," he replied, lighting his cigarette.

"Captain Pea- er- Stephen. How long have we known each other?"

Stephen swallowed hard. Whenever someone starts a sentence with 'How long have we known each other?', it's never good. He could feel his temperature rising.

"We've known each other a long time, sir," he said, taking a drag and exhaling through his nostrils.

"Yes. Then I'll cut to the chase," he said firmly.

"Please do, sir, the others will be arriving," Stephen answered, trying not to sound flippant.

Mr. Rumbold removed his glasses and put one temple piece in his mouth, "It has come to my attention that you've remarried," Mr. Rumbold blurted.

Stephen's eyebrows shot up and he coughed, "Sir?"

"Yes. There have been rumors that you've remarried," he repeated, "Is there anything in it?"

Stephen hated to deny his husband, but he could not risk exposing them, "There is nothing going on between Mrs. Slocombe and myself."

"That wasn't the rumor to which I was referring. This one is a bit more…_shocking_. The rumor is that you are married to…I can barely fathom it…to a _man_," he said finally.

Stephen did a double-take and stifled a gasp, "Sir, that would be illegal."

"Well, I know that, Captain Peacock!" Mr. Rumbold barked, "Is there any truth to your being married?"

"Has my job performance been faltering in any way? Has my appearance slipped below my usual impeccable standards? Have you any reason to reproach me?"

"You're not answering the question, Captain Peacock!"

"I _did_ answer the question, sir," he said and calmly stubbed the cigarette in the amber glass ashtray on Mr. Rumbold's desk.

"Then you are denying the rumor, hmm?"

"It would be illegal for me to be married to a man, Mr. Rumbold," Stephen reminded him, unwavering. He felt beads of sweat form on his forehead; talk about being in the hot seat.

Mr. Rumbold's forehead wrinkled in thought and he pursed his lips.

"You do know the consequences if this rumor were found to be true, don't you?"

Stephen's entire body tensed and he pressed his lips together tightly. The thought of his beloved Lionel being hauled off to jail and "retrained" and "given therapy" both frightened him and sickened him. He thought not of his own safety or what could become of himself, only Lionel. His mind wandered to Room 101 in the book 1984.  
He seethed with anger. Who would want him or Lionel harmed? He knew he wasn't the easiest supervisor to work for, but could they actually want him gone?

"Captain Peacock?" Mr. Rumbold blurted, breaking Stephen's chain of thought, "I'm waiting."

"Might I be so bold as to ask _who _told you this rumor, sir?" Captain Peacock asked, his grey eyes blazing and his brow furrowed, eyebrows tightly knitted together.

"Well, I'd like to keep that source confidential," Mr. Rumbold stated.

"_Confidential_? The sneak didn't seem to care about _my_ confidentiality. Since my name was specifically mentioned, I think I have a right to know my accuser. Was it Harman?" he snarled.

"If you must know, it was Mr. Grainger but there's nothing to worry about. It will go no further than this office. He probably made assumptions after your divorce and subsequent living arrangements," he reassured Captain Peacock.

"_Grainger_?" Stephen shrieked.

"Relax," Mr. Rumbold said, trying to smooth things, "He probably got the wrong end of the stick; he usually does!"

Stephen bristled. _Hateful old crab! He's probably hoping to get me sacked and take over the floorwalker position._

"Why didn't he just come to me with his suspicions?" Stephen asked.

"You know that that's not the way things are done in that situation. He's not a confrontational person and something of this sensitive nature needs to be kept as hush-hush as possible."

_My life is a "situation"? _Stephen thought _Would they have come for me and Lionel in the night and whisked us away to jail? Separate jails? Would we ever see each other again? _

The thought made him angry and sad at the same time. He maintained his composure and would not give Mr. Rumbold the satisfaction of rattling him._  
_

"Are you alright, Captain Peacock? You seem to be distracted."

"Yes, sir. I can't fathom what's gotten into Mr. Grainger."

"Like I said, he most likely got the wrong end of the stick. I wouldn't give it another thought it I were you."

"Wouldn't you?" Captain Peacock looked at him incredulously.

"Since the rumor appears to be false, there's no harm done."

"I see," Captain Peacock said, his jaw firmly set.

Captain Peacock glanced at his watch and his throat constricted at the sight of his naked ring finger. Mr. Rumbold checked his watch as well.

"Well, that's settled then," Mr. Rumbold said with finality.

"Indeed," Stephen responded dryly.

"It's almost opening time. You'd best get out on the floor, Captain Peacock. I'm glad we've cleared the air about this. We only have Mr. Humphries to worry about…and that's not confirmed either."

Stephen felt the pit of his stomach drop. His hands clenched in angry fists and he knew he had to get out of that office…_now!_

He stood and turned on his heels, not making eye contact with Mr. Rumbold.

"Good day, Captain Peacock!" Mr. Rumbold called as the floorwalker quickly departed the office.

_Sod off! _The voice in Stephen's head screamed.

* * *

The others arrived, signed in, and began to unfurl the covers on their counters.

"Good morning, Captain Peacock," Mrs. Slocombe smiled as she applied fresh lipstick to her lips. She blotted the excess on a bit of paper.

He mustered a strained smile, "Good morning, Mrs. Slocombe," he said flatly.

She gave him a sympathetic nod.

Mr. Grainger appeared from the fitting room where he'd hung his coat and hat and stowed his umbrella.

"Good morning, Captain Peacock," he greeted.

The floorwalker glowered at his subordinate.

_Backstabbing old git!_

"Good morning, Mr. Grainger," he grumbled through clenched teeth.

Mr. Lucas leaned over to Mr. Humphries, "Ooh...Peacock's in a foul mood!"

"_Fowl_ mood, you say, Mr. Lucas?" Mr. Humphries whispered and both men tittered like school boys.

Captain Peacock shot them warning glare.

"Ooh…really foul," Mr. Humphries observed.

Mr. Lucas nodded in agreement, "Good thing I was on time today!"

"For once!" Mr. Grainger muttered.

"Good morning, Captain Peacock!" Miss Brahms trilled.

He mustered a weak smile for her, "Good morning, Miss Brahms."

"Captain Peacock?" Mrs. Slocombe called, "Are you free?"

He chuckled at her question, then looked to the left and turned to the right, "Yes, Mrs. Slocombe, at the moment."

"May I have a word in your shell-like ear?" she said overly sweet.

He crooked his finger, "You may approach me near the center stand, Mrs. Slocombe."

Captain Peacock dipped his head a bit so his ear was closer to Mrs. Slocombe.

She stood in close proximity so no one else could hear and whispered, "If you need to talk, Stephen, I'm going to coffee at eleven."

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, "Thank you."

She returned to her counter as the opening bell rang.


End file.
